Eight Men A Week
by TimeSpace64
Summary: The Beatles from 'A Hard Day's Night' are in Malibu, CA for a vacation. They've run off on Norm and Shake again, looking for what could be considered a normal evening. However, when they stumble into a club with a catchy band, they will realize how much trouble four musicians can get into in the state of California. I do not own the Monkees or the Beatles or 'A Hard Day's Night.
1. Chapter 1- Behind the Club

Chapter 1-Behind the Club

Four young men trotted down the dark street of a cold November night. They walked with their heads low and hats tilted, hoping no one would see through their disguises. One of them was unconsciously itching at his fake mustache.

"Paul, quit scratchin' it. It'll come off." One man warned him.

"Sorry, I just can't help it. It itches." The man named Paul complained.

"Oi, knock it off or I'll scratch you both into next week." Another one threatened, tilting his hat forward.

"Come on John, admit it. It itches, doesn't it?" Paul asked.

The man name John grimaced, not wanting to admit to it. The fourth man shushed them all. "You hear that?"

"I don't hear nothin' George." The first man put in.

"Listen Ringo, and maybe you will." The man named George ordered. Then they could hear it. It was muffled, probably meaning it was coming from one of the nearby bars or clubs. It was rock and roll music for sure, but they had never heard the particular sound before. "Come on fellas, we were lookin' for a bar, were we not?"

"Norm's gonna flip his lid when he finds out." Paul complained, following George. John and Ringo followed. They entered a club called the Vincent Van Go-Go, a bright purple club. They took a table and ordered some drinks. Once the waitress had gone, they all looked up at the band performing.

"Aye, knock off Beatles." John snickered. 

"Be nice." Paul frowned. "I'm tryin' to listen."

The band on stage all wore the same outfit: a bright blue eight-button shirt, black pants, and black suede boots. There were four of them. Their drummer had straightened and somewhat controlled brown hair and always seemed to sing lead. Their bassist had long blonde hair and danced when he played. Their lead guitarist had pitch black hair, some progressing sideburns, and a green wool hat atop his head. He seemed controlled during their playing, but smiled every now and then when the band must have done something right. They also had a singer who played a tambourine and maracas. He stood next to the bassist. The percussionist also had brown hair with large, bushy eyebrows.

"Take the last train to Clarksville, and I'll meet you at the station. You can be be there by four thirty, 'cause I made your reservation be slow, oh, no, no, no! Oh, no, no, no!" The drummer sang.

"They're not bad." George commented, tasting his drink.

"Oh come on! It's a knock off of 'She Loves You.'" John complained.

John's three bandmates gave him a quizzical look. Dismissing John's pessimism, they continued listening to the band. The band had ended their 'She Loves You' knock off and started singing another song about falling in love with two women. This was sung by the short percussionist. John crossed his arms with judgement while the other three listened intently, falling into the beat. When the band got the audience to clap, all but John clapped.

Their next song took John by surprise. He noted that the band seemed unsure of themselves before the song began, but once they dove into the lyrics, it was amazing. It was the guitarist who sang the song.

"Hey, hey, mercy woman plays a song and no one listens, I need help I'm falling again. Play the drum a little louder, tell me I can live without her, if I only listen to the band. Listen to the band!" When that song ended, the band bowed and left the stage. This time John clapped with the rest of the audience.

"Come on, mates. Let's go say hi." Paul inquired, standing.

"I'm game." George stood as well.

"Come on John." Ringo said, standing as well. John rolled his eyes and stood up, following the others backstage. He had a happy smirk across his lips.

They spotted the four young men packing up their instruments, mingling about that night's performance. John walked up behind the curly-haired drummer, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and saying in a low voice, "Excuse me, sir?" 

The drummer jumped five feet into the air, spinning to see who startled him. "Don't do that!" He exclaimed.

"Um, we'd like to compliment you boys on tonight's performance." Paul said in a similar low voice, stepping forward.

"Oh," the drummer said, trying to calm down. "Well, thanks. Hey, you sound English, you from England?" 

Before the word 'yes' could come from their mouths, the drummer called over one of the bandmates, yelling to him about England and home. The petite percussionist walked over to the five men, asking what the drummer was yelling about.

"Hi," Paul said. "My name is, er, Paul Ramone."

"Davy Jones." The percussionist introduced himself. He held out his hand to Paul. "Say, Micky, you're onto something here. What part of England are you guys from?"

"Liverpool." Paul said, accepting the handshake. "You?"

"Manchester." Davy smiled. Then the other two musicians came over.

"Davy! Micky! Come on you guys, we need to pack up." The tall man wearing a wool hat yelled with a Texas drawl.

"Sorry Mike, we were just talking to these guys. They liked our performance." Micky apologized, turning back to his drums. The four Beatles smiled at the two musicians.

John held his hand out to the tall guitarist. "The name's John Lennon-ow!" Paul hit John upside the head.

The guitarist named Mike laughed. "John Lennon? I don't believe it. If you're John Lennon then I'm the President of the Texas Prairie Chicken Association."

Paul, George, and Ringo sighed. They all knew John was going to take offense to that, hence their cover was blown. John grabbed his fake beard, glasses, and hat from his head, throwing them on the floor. Announcing that he was, in fact, John Lennon, he stepped forward to be inches from the Texan's face, steaming with anger. The four musicians looked at John, aghast at the realization that it _was_ John Lennon. Mike quickly apologized, taking a step back.

"So does that mean you three are…" Davy asked, rubbing his temple.

Paul, George, and Ringo all took off their disguises in response. "We were trying to not attract attention to ourselves… until Mr. Vanity Issues right here took offense to your friend's comment." Paul explained, picking up the discarded disguises. "So, no introduction is necessary on our end, I assume, but we don't know who you are. We weren't here for the whole show, you see."

"You guys really were great though." George added, taking half of the disguises from Paul. The band muttered their thanks before introducing themselves.

"Well," Mike began, "We're the Monkees. I'm Mike, this is Davy, Peter, and Micky." Mike said, pointing to each member when called.

"Monkeys?" John laughed.

"Says the man who named his band after a bug." Ringo scoffed, receiving a death glare from John.

"It wasn't my first choice!" John defended.

"But it's what you went with!" Ringo added.

"Mates!" Paul yelled. "Be quiet."

"Right…" Mike said, looking at each Beatle with a slight smile on his face. "Our name is mainly ours because of you guys. It's spelled, M-O-N-K-E-E-S."

"Ah." The Beatles chorused into an awkward silence. After a minute of awkward stares and looks, Paul broke it by asking, "So you lads famous 'round here?"

The Monkees looked at each other awkwardly. Mike gave a shy laughed. "Well, um… sort of… kind of…"

"Not really." Davy finished. "I mean, the people who've hired us know who we are, but usually at the mention of 'we're the Monkees,' they just kind of assume we're long-haired weirdos."

"That's a shame." Ringo said, scratching his head.

"Yeah, so what are you guys doing in Malibu?" Micky asked.

"Vacation." Paul said.

"From Norm." John added slyly.

"No, not from Norm." Paul rolled his eyes. "Norm's our manager. He drives us up walls a lot, but we need him to function most of the time. He's back at the hotel, probably worried sick. No one knows were out."

"Oh, well shouldn't you get back then?" Peter asked.

"Probably." Paul sighed, applying the fake beard and mustache to his face. "Say, it was nice meeting you, mates."

"Will you be here again tomorrow?" George asked, fixing his mustache.

"Yeah, we're here all week from six to eleven." Mike said, giving glances to his bandmates.

"Right then." John added. "We must be off, boys."

"Have a good night." Ringo added.

"Good night!" The Monkees said, grabbing their instruments. The four members of the Beatles left the bar and headed back to their hotel, all knowing what the other had planned.


	2. Chapter 2- Sometime in the Morning

Chapter 2- Sometime in the Morning

The four men carefully turned on the light. Each one followed the other into the room, not daring to break the silence. After the last man shut the door, the leader gave a heavy sigh. "We did it mates. Think Norm will notice?"

"He always does, John." George grumbled. "Was it worth it?"

"I think so." Ringo said, hiding his disguise in the dresser drawer underneath his normal clothes.

Paul walked over and did the same. "Do we still wanna sneak out tomorrow?"

"All depends on how Norm is tomorrow." John stately drily. He too took off his disguise and stuffed it in the nightstand. "If he catches on, he might put guards outside our door."

"Maybe we can get them to come to us." George suggested, stuffing his disguise in the same drawer as Paul. "Leave 'em a note or somethin' like that."

"What are you talking about Harrison?" John asked.

"That band - the Monkees - I liked their sound. I don't know about you, but I wanna inside look." George grabbed some pajamas and headed towards the bathroom.

John rolled his eyes. "Course you do, George." 

"Now hold it, Lennon, he makes a good point." Paul argued. "I wanna see what else they can do as much as he does. Maybe we can learn a thing or two."

"Or they can learn from us." Ringo added. "Maybe help them start off their careers. They said they weren't too well known."

"You're all soft." John said, rolling his eyes. "Why do I listen to you?"

"So you're in?" Paul asked.

"Do I have a choice?" John laughed.

The four men carefully turned on the light. Each one followed the other into the room, not daring to break the silence. After the last man shut the door, the leader gave a heavy sigh. "I still can't believe it."

"Believe it, man. We met the Beatles, and they _liked our music."_ Micky said, giving a hysterical laugh. "The _Beatles_ liked _our_ music!" 

"Think they'll go back to the Go-Go to see us again?" Peter asked, setting his bass case on the bandstand. 

"They hinted at it, so who knows." Davy said, bringing the percussionist bag to the bandstand as well.

There was a strange silence in the air as they stopped their work. All four of them thought the same thing, giving each other uncomfortable stares. Trouble was ahead for them, and who knows what would happen.

The four Beatles hopped down the stairs into the dining area of the hotel. John was the first to spot Norm and Shake sitting at a table for six on the other side of the room. John led his band towards them, greeting the two with a hearty, "Well if it isn't our commanding officer and first mate!"

"Someone's cheery." Shake noted, sipping his coffee.

"Mornin' John." Norm grumbled, looking up at the band with interest. "Sit down, won't you?"

"Don't mind if we do!" John proclaimed, pulling out a chair that Paul promptly sat in, nodding in gratitude. Ringo pulled out a chair for himself, but it was suddenly stolen by John. Rolling his eyes, he sat down in between John and Shake.

"How'd you sleep last night, Norm?" Paul asked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Terrible." Norm grumbled. "Somethin' was bothering me, but I couldn't name what. I think it's just bein' out of me own bed." 

"Could be." Paul said, glancing at his John. 

"How about you, Shake?" John inquired. "Did the bed bugs gobble you up like Norm here?"

"I slept fine." Shake shrugged. "Don't know what he's complaining about."

"Nor do we, Shake ol' pal." Ringo said, putting an arm on his shoulder.

"Why don't you boys go get some breakfast from the bar?" Norm grumbled. He wasn't mentally or physically ready to deal with Lennon the three minions.

The band nodded and got up to get some breakfast. Once up at the bar, Paul whispered. "Norm's suspicious."

"But he doesn't know." George pointed out, putting a spoonful of scrambled eggs on his plate.

"Do we risk it, though?" Paul asked.

"I think we should." Ringo said. "He doesn't know, but let's just hope he doesn't decide to go out and we're golden."

"Big Nose has a point." John said, pointing at Ringo with his knife.

"Then let's risk it!" Paul whispered happily. They all broke off to get their breakfast, contemplating what the rest of the day would bring.

"Mornin' Mike." Peter said as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of him.

Mike gave him a wave, staring down at his pancakes. Peter, Davy, and surprisingly Micky, were all up before their fearless leader this morning. Davy and Micky were both nearly done with their breakfast and Peter was already done and dressed. Micky licked the syrup off his plate and asked, "Rough night Mike?"

Mike shrugged. "Not really. Slept like a rock. Just tired, I guess."

"Are you sick?" Davy asked.

"Don't think so. I feel fine."

"Just tired?" Micky asked, placing his plate in the sink. During the whole conversation, Mike had not touched his food.

Mike shrugged again. "I'll be fine, guys." He picked up his fork and cut a small piece off a pancake before nonchalantly placing it in his mouth.

Peter, Micky, and Davy all exchanged concerned looks. "If you say so, Mike." Davy said before placing his plate in the sink as well. "I'm gonna go get dressed."

"You do that." Micky said, walking over to the TV and switching it on. Peter sat down at the table with Mike, not willing to let him eat alone.

"So what's the plan today, Mike?" Peter asked.

Mike shrugged, popping another pancake into his mouth. "Should probably practice before the gig tonight."

"Probably. Anything else important we need to do?"

"I don't know Peter." Mike said. Sighing, he pushed his pancakes in front of him and stood. "I'm gonna go take a shower. I'll be back for those." He said, pointing to the pancakes. "Leave 'em there." He ordered before walking off to the bathroom. Shrugging, Peter walked over to where Micky was watching some Saturday morning cartoons.

"Hi Pete." Micky waved as Peter sat down. The two silently watched the cartoons.

Davy came down shortly, dressed. "Where's Mike?"

"Shower." Both boys responded, not looking away from the TV.

"Oh." Davy said, sitting next to Peter.

The last cartoon for the morning ended and the news took over. The anchor this morning was Rick Kindling. He wore a fancy business suit, a trimmed, brown beard, and wore thick rimmed glasses. "This morning on _9 and 8 News_ , the world famous Beatles are in Malibu this week…"

"Some vacation." Micky snorted. "Now the whole world knows."

"Man, no wonder they need those disguises. Girls will be crawling all over the place just for a look." Davy sighed, envying the band.

Both Peter and Micky gave Davy a look. "What are you sighing about? You have girls crawling all over you twenty-four seven. That's nothing new for you."

Davy rolled his eyes at his bandmates. "Do you really think they'll come back tonight?"

Micky shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"Man, I still can't believe it." Peter thought aloud. "It's like being complimented by gods."

"That's basically what it is, mate. The gods of rock liked our music. I don't think there is a higher honor." Davy said, returning his attention to the TV.

"In more dire news, Dr. Alfred Mendoza has been put on parole by the district of Malibu on the grounds that his research is observed by an official of the Science and Technology Division of California."

"What?!" Micky, Peter, and Davy both yelled, completely shocked by this new development.


	3. Chapter 3- I Feel Fine

Chapter 3- I Feel Fine

"Hey Norm, maybe we could do a little sightseeing today?" George asked as they walked back to their hotel room. Breakfast was full of John's antics, Norm's warnings, and Ringo getting a face full of maple syrup.

"How? I was listening to the news today and everyone knows you're here." Norm said, unlocking his room.

"We can wear disguises." Paul suggested.

"Yeah, it's not like we haven't done it before." Ringo added.

John quickly pushed his bandmates aside and kneeled in front of Norm, giving him no room to get through the doorway. "Oh please, oh high and mighty ruler of the Beatles, please oh please for the love of all that is good and pure in this world, buy us disguises so that we may frolic with the common folk without getting torn limb from limb by their sharp nails and high pitch screams!"

"Move it, John." Norm said half-heartedly, shoving him aside.

"Hey! Aren't we supposed to be on vacation?" Paul protested, barging into Norm's room, followed by George, Ringo, and John. "Last I heard, a vacation didn't include staying cooped up in a hotel all day and night!"

"Yeah, that's right!" Ringo yelled in agreeance.

"Hotels are for sleeping!" John proclaimed. "What use is it to me when I'm awake?"

"Wait!" George yelled, silencing all of them. "I've got this." He cleared his throat and put himself center stage between the band and Norm. He fixed his jean jacket to look a little professional. "If you won't go and get us disguises, I guess we'll just have to go out and get them ourselves. We may not come back alive, but I think it's worth it, don't you, mates?"

Paul, John, and Ringo, surprised with George's performance, nodded quickly. They each looked at Norm with pleading eyes. He looked very skeptical, but finally caved in. "Fine." He grumbled. "I'll send Shake out."

The Beatles smiled, thanked him, and returned to their own room. They all congratulated George on his astonishing performance once inside. They all would have expected that from John, but who knew George had moxy or charisma to stand up to Norm.

"So what are we going to do once we get the disguises?" Ringo asked. "And what do we do with the old ones?"

"Simple," Paul said, putting his elbow on Ringo's shoulder. "We keep our old ones hidden and only use them at night. Norm doesn't know we brought them with us, and it should stay that way. I say we go sightseeing and keep an eye out for that band."

"Here, here!" George said in agreement.

"It can't be that hard to spot them." John said. "If that's how they dress in public." When the excitement died down, the four boys patiently waited for Shake to return with their new disguises. George and Ringo sat in one corner of the room while Paul and John sat in another, all writing music.

Micky, Peter, and Davy all stared at the screen in disbelief. Dr. Mendoza was released? After what he did to them? They all sat back as the news continued, talking about things that were a lot less interesting to them. They heard the water in the bathroom shut off.

"Uh oh, Mike's done." Davy teased, the Mendoza scare subsiding.

"I'm afraid we must prepare for the worst." Micky continued.

"What are you guys talking about?" Peter asked, looking at his two bandmates. Davy and Micky rolled their eyes. They loved Peter, but he wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box.

Mike emerged from the bathroom, fully clothed, his wool hat under his arm. His hair was still wet from his shower, untamed and dripping water on the floor. With a smile he walked over to the table. He picked up his plate of pancakes and began eating them without bothering to sit.

"Well someone's had a mood change." Davy pointed out.

"Hm?" Mike asked, shoving another forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

Davy glanced over at his two bandmates, who indeed noticed the change too. "Some shower, huh? How you feelin' Mike?"

"Never better!" Mike said, finishing the pancakes and, to the Monkees' surprise, licking the maple syrup off his plate. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason…" Davy said, looking over at his bandmates again, who stared wide-eyed at their leader. "Wanna do some practicing guys?" He suggested.

"Sure!" Mike said, a little too enthusiastically. The four Monkees walked up to the bandstand and proceeded to do their typical practice preparations.

"He's acting a lot like Micky, huh?" Davy whispered to Peter as Peter tuned his bass.

"Yeah. I mean, Micky was like that this morning too, but that's just Micky." Peter said. He shrugged and continued to tune. Davy sighed and shuffled to his appropriate spot on the stage. He had a feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn't really tell yet. He deduced that he would need more information first before he could actually call anyone out on his bad feeling. They all had their bad mornings, but Davy never recalled anyone perking up like that after a shower, or at least at the intensity Mike was at. They really didn't need another Micky in the band. They loved, but could only handle the one. Davy wasn't sure what was going on, but he hoped that it truly was nothing.

"This is the same club, right?" George asked as himself, John, Paul, and Ringo stepped up to the club entrance. It was nearly ten o'clock at night, and they had escaped the hotel once again without being caught by Norm or Shake.

"Looks like it." Ringo commented, scratching his beard.

"Sounds like it." John pointed out. "Hear that?"

" _I'll be back upon my feet. I'll be back upon my feet. Chase the moon and sun to find my one and only you. I'll be back upon my feet. I'll be back upon my feet. Looking high, I'm looking low. When I find my boots I know I got to go_."

"Let's go." John said, motioning for his bandmates to enter the club.

The four Beatles walked in and were greeted by a blonde waitress. "Good evening welcome to the Vincent Van Go-Go, right this way please." She said with a bright smile.

"Whoah." Paul muttered under his breath.

"Oh dear…" George mumbled, being the only one who heard Paul. "Not again."

"What?" Paul asked, offended.

"Keep one girl and stick with her, mate. Anyone would kill to date a Beatle, but no one will get the chance if you keep fawning over every girl you see."

"Knock it off." Paul hissed as they sat down.

The band looked up at the performers, who were finishing up the song they heard them singing outside. The next song they performed was sung by the tall one in the wool hat, Mike if they recalled. "All men must have someone, have someone, who would never take advantage of a love bright as the sun…"

"Can I get you anything?" The waitress asked. Each Beatle ordered a drink and the waitress walked off to the bar to get their drinks.

"Is it them?" A customer asked in a strange accent. 

"Yes, Father." The waitress whispered, mixing a drink.

"Good. We'll wait one more day then, so that all six have the proper dosage. Do you have any left from the Monkees' drinks?"

"No, you only gave me enough for the three."

"Then here." The customer slid a small vile across to the waitress, who picked it up, opened it, and dropped a single drop into the drink she was making.

"Does it matter which three?" She asked, beginning to mix another drink.

"They all look the same. Just make sure the doses are consistent. Which Monkees got it last night?"

"Michael, Micky, and Peter." The waitress said, dropping another drop into the drink and beginning the next one.

"Did you make sure they got it tonight as well?"

"Yes, Father." The waitress said, starting to get annoyed.

"Good. Keep up the good work." The man stood and stretched, tilting his fedora farther into his face. "I'll see you at home, dear. Good night."

"Good night Father." The waitress said, finishing the third drink and starting the fourth. She put green umbrellas into the drinks contaminated with the liquid she acquired, and a red umbrella in the drink that was clean. She made sure she had her notepad before venturing out to deliver the drinks. "Here you are, boys." She smiled, handing each one a drink. After doing so, she asked, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Uh," Paul said, looking down at the menu. "Just a plate of fries for the table, please."

"Right away, sir." She winked, and walked away, studying the names she wrote down on her notepad.

When the band finished the song, Mike announced that they would be taking a short intermission. The band disappeared, and Paul stood up.

"Where are you going?" John asked, standing.

"Gonna go talk to the band." Paul said, motioning the stage. "You lot coming or what?"

"What about our fries?" Ringo asked.

Paul rolled his eyes. "Fine. You three stay, I'll bring them to us." Paul shuffled through the club till he got backstage. He found the Monkees easily, for they kept close to the stage. "Hey fellas!" He called out to them.

Each Monkee looked up from their drinks, all water. Davy, who was sitting on an old amp, slid off and approached Paul. He looked at him a minute before saying, "Paul?"

Paul smiled. "Hi. My mates 'n I want to invite you to our table to talk."

Micky let out an excited gasp. "Really? Groovy!" The Monkees followed Paul out into the dining area, glasses in hand. When they got to the table, the Monkees found some empty chairs and brought them over to the table. When all four Monkees settled in, each one between two Beatles, Ringo started the conversation off.

"Good evening, fellas." He smiled, taking a sip of his drink. "Love the music."

"Thanks." Mike said. "We weren't sure if you guys would be coming back, honestly."

"We're on vacation." George said. "It's nice to see someone else perform for a change."

"Yeah, especially since you're- ow!" John started, but was interrupted by Paul stretching over and punching him.

"Did you write all of that material yourselves?" Paul asked, giving John a death glare.

"Yeah." Davy said. "Well…"

"I wrote most of it." Mike said. "The others have written some, too."

"Peter's a phenomenal writer." Micky pointed out. "He just doesn't let us see it."

Peter blushed, but felt better when George said, "Don't worry about it. I've got a bunch of songs that the Lennon/McCartney duo hasn't seen."

"What?" Both John and Paul asked.

George chuckled. "You never give me the chance!"

"Hey!" An unfamiliar yell came. The Monkees looked up, their faces draining of color. "Intermission over! Get back on stage."

"Well, I guess we'll be seeing you." Mike said sheepishly, getting up. The four Monkees began to head back to the stage, but before Davy could, Paul pulled on his sleeve.

"Hey," Paul said, grabbing a napkin and pulling a pen from his pocket.

"What?"

"Where can we meet you guys tomorrow? We told our manager we wanted to do some more sightseeing tomorrow after not being able to find you guys today."

"Oh, uh… well…" Davy said, taking the napkin and pen. He wrote their address on the napkin before handing it back to the Beatle. "That's our home address. I've got to go."

"DAVY!" Mike yelled.

"Coming!" Davy said, running off.

Paul waved the napkin in the air. "What do you think?"

John took the napkin from Paul and studied it. "Is this where we're going tomorrow, I assume?"

"Do you guys wanna go?" Paul asked. George and Ringo looked at each other before shrugging and nodding. "John?"

"You've convinced me to sneak out two nights in a row now. I don't see how this is any different." He said, tossing the napkin back at Paul. "You just better hope Norm doesn't catch us."

"Since when were you afraid of Norm?" Paul asked.

"Since he's sitting right over there with Shake."


	4. Chapter 4- Show Off

Chapter 4- Show Off

Paul rolled over, feeling himself awaken from a deep slumber. Once he recognized the fact that he was truly awake, he sat up. Looking over at the other bed in the room, he saw Ringo snoring loudly. Silently, he got out of bed, grabbed some clothes, and headed straight for the shower. After taking care of his typical morning grooming, Paul vacated the bathroom, only to wish he hadn't.

"Where'd you put my jacket, Harrison?" John growled at the equally angry guitarist. Why they were in he and Ringo's room, he wasn't sure, but Ringo, John, and George were all standing inches from each others' faces.

"I didn't do anything with your jacket! It was in here last!" George yelled.

"In here? Why the bloody hell would it be in here?" Ringo retorted.

"What's going on?" Paul asked.

"He stole my jacket!" John yelled.

"I did not!" George yelled.

Paul took a glimpse around the room and saw the jacket in question on the chair by the desk. "You mean that jacket?" Paul asked, pointing at it.

"My jacket!" John yelled, grabbing it.

"I told you it was in here." George said.

"Buzz off Harrison." John said, rushing off through the door to his room.

"Here," Paul said, handing George the bottle of shampoo he had in his hand. "Take a shower. You'll feel better."

"Thanks." George grumbled, walking off to grab fresh clothes.

"Wow," Paul said to himself. "What's gotten into them?"

"I dunno." Ringo said. Paul had forgotten that Ringo was in the room. "I feel terrible, though."

"How so?"

"I'm tired." Ringo rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "They must be, too. How you feelin' this morning, Paul?"

"Fine." Paul said, putting the rest of his grooming products away.

"GEORGE!" John yelled from the other room.

"Oh no…" Ringo whined, falling back onto his bed.

"I'll take care of this." Paul said, closing up the dresser and walking into John and George's room to take care of the moody guitarist.

Davy awoke from his slumber, feeling more than refreshed for a new day. He sat up and looked around the room. To his surprise, Mike, Micky, and Peter were all still sleeping soundly. Quietly, he slid out of bed to take care of his own morning routine. A shower and a typical grooming later, Davy emerged from the bathroom, only to find the pad silent. He poked his head into their bedroom only to find his band mates still fast asleep.

"Those are my cupcakes, Peter." Micky mumbled in his sleep.

"Micky, get down from there." Mike said clearly, however his eyes were still shut, indicating his too was asleep.

He looked over at the clock to find that it was nearly ten in the morning. Thinking back to the night before, Davy decided to let them sleep. He quickly vacated the room and walked off to find himself some breakfast.

"This place is over by the beach." The Beatles' chauffeur informed them.

"The beach?" Norm asked.

"I'd like to go to the beach." George beamed.

"Yeah, that sounds like fun." Paul agreed.

"Let's go to the beach." John added.

"Now come on, mates. Let's get Norm's opinion." Ringo said almost sarcastically.

"I don't know…" Norm said with a worried tone. "That's pretty…"

"Public?" Shake finished his sentence.

"Yeah, I don't want us getting into any trouble." Norm finished, giving Shake a look of thanks.

"We won't get into any trouble, will we mates?" John said, placing an elbow on Norm's shoulder. The others shook their heads in agreement. Norm sighed, seeing that the battle was lost.

"What a sight." Ringo mused, looking out at the vast ocean. The sun was high over their heads, and the air was warm for a November day in California. "It's never this nice in England."

"Nope." Paul agreed. "Look at it, though. It's like a mirage."

"Hey Paulie!" They heard John yell. Ringo and Paul looked over, finding George and John walking over. "I think I found a Monkee."

"Did you?" Paul asked. John pointed behind him at a couple by the water. A man and a woman stood by the water, looking into each other's eyes. The man was a few inches shorter than the woman, so he had to look up to look into her eyes. Every now and then they would kiss, oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

"Paul, go show him up." John ordered.

"Sorry?" Paul asked.

"He wants you to go steal his girl." George translated.

"I can't do that!" Paul exclaimed. "For one, that's rude."

"For two, you're a Beatle, so it will be easy as pie." John finished with a smile.

"No John, I'm not doing it."

"Oh come on, Paul, amuse us." George said with a smile.

"No!"

"Paul, just do it so they stop bugging' you." Ringo reasoned. "You know you can't win a fight against John Lennon."

Paul sighed. "Fine." He quickly changed his tone to that of a cocky gentleman, his one goal being to woo the beautiful lady in the Monkee's arms. With a bounce in his step, Paul made his way over to the couple. The closer he got, the quicker he realized that the Monkee in question was Davy. One he was a few feet from the dreamy couple, Paul cleared his throat, awakening the couple from their dreamworld. Davy looked at Paul in confusion while his girl looked at him in wonder.

"Good afternoon, miss." Paul said pompously, bowing. "I was wondering if you would be interesting in taking a beautiful sunlit stroll across the beach with a shy, no talent, foolish man such as-"

"You're Paul McCartney!" The girl screamed.

Paul gave a shy laugh. "Oh dear," He said sarcastically. "It looks like my cover's been blown."

"Davy, look! It's Paul McCartney!" The girl screeched.

"I see that." Davy said, all but amused.

Paul stood straight again and took one of the girl's hands, kissing it. "To continue my offer, would you like to go for a walk along the-"

"Are the other Beatles here too?" The girl asked excitedly. "Is that them over there?" She pointed to where John, George, and Ringo were watching. "Oo! It's the Beatles!" She quickly abandoned the two and ran over to the rest of the Beatles.

Davy let out an annoyed sigh. "Well then."

"Sorry, mate." Paul apologized. "John dared me to. You can't win an argument against him."

"It's alright… I guess." Davy sighed. "At least I can say I've been shown up by a Beatle."

"All four." Paul added. "Look at her." The girl was fawning over each man, as if playing favorites before changing to the next one. First Ringo's face declared victory while John and George's indicated annoyance, till she was suddenly on George's arm, then John's. "John get's all the chicks."

"I would think that was you." Davy admitted.

"Second best, sadly. Hey, aren't there supposed to be four of you?"

"They're back at the pad. They were asleep, last I checked."

"At three thirty in the afternoon?" Paul asked, looking at his watch.

"They should be up by now. They're probably wondering where I am, now that I think about it. I'll be heading back up, now." Davy said, walking towards the stairs that led to the pad.

"Mind if I join you?" Paul asked, running after him.

"Not at all. Come along." Davy waved him on, leading Paul up the stairs.

"Hey Paul!" They heard Ringo yell. Davy and Paul turned to see George and Ringo running up the stairs after them. "Where you going?"

"Up to Davy's place." Paul responded.

"Can we come?" Ringo asked.

"John won the girl." George added. "They're off that way some place."

"Sure." Davy said. The four men walked up to the pad, Davy letting them in through the back door. The Beatles filed in, mouths gaping in awe at the interior of the pad. Davy quickly made his way up the spiral staircase and onto the balcony.

"You _live_ here?" George asked.

"Yeah. I live here with Mike, Micky, and Peter." Davy said from the balcony. Suddenly, Paul, George, and Ringo were up on the balcony with him. Davy poked his head in the room, finding his band mates still asleep.

"Well?" Ringo asked.

"They're still asleep." Davy said, confused. He opened the door wider and walked into the room, the three Beatles in tow.

"This room's just as weird as your living room." Ringo noted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Davy said, waving it off. He walked over to where Micky slept, observing the sleeping Monkee, hoping he was asleep and not dead.

"Peter, not the puppy!" Micky mumbled, tossing and turning in his bed.

"Hey, Micky?" Davy said, but Micky didn't respond. With a light tap on the sleeping man's shoulder, Davy sent the Monkee flying off the bed. Micky hit the floor and groaned. He quickly popped up from the other side of the bed, hands ready to fight.

"Mornin' Micky." Davy laughed at the sight.

"What happened?" Micky asked, looking wide-eyed at the four men standing in the room.

"You've been asleep all day." Davy explained. "It's nearly four."

"Four in the afternoon?" Micky asked, looking around to see Peter and Mike still asleep.

George walked over to where Peter slept and Ringo over to where Mike slept, both men pushing the Monkees off their beds. Mike and Peter both hit the floor and quickly popped back up, completely alert.

"What's going on here?" Mike asked, his Texas drawl thick with annoyance.

"Good morning to you too, Mike." Davy laughed.

"What time is it?" Peter grumbled irritably.

"Uh," Paul said, looking down at his watch. "Three forty-seven."

"That's early." Peter said.

"In the afternoon." Ringo pointed out.

"Oh." Peter frowned. "How come no one woke us up?"

"We just did." Davy explained. "Get up. We've got to get to the Vincent Van Go-Go in a couple hours."

"And we still need to rehearse." Mike added, using his bed to help him stand.

"We'll meet you guys downstairs." Davy said, motioning for the Beatles to leave the room.

Paul, George, Ringo, and Davy all walked out onto the balcony, surprised to find John Lennon sitting on the therapeutic couch, Davy's girl sitting on his lap, giggling at John's mock-singing.

"John?" Paul asked.

"Hannah?" Davy asked.

"Oh look, darling," John said in a romantic voice. "It's the Beatles!" Hannah laughed. John pretended to swoon over his band mates, causing the girl to laugh louder.

"What are you doing here?" Ringo asked as the four made their way down the hurricane steps.

"I saw you lot run off up here, so I took Hannah up here with me to wait for you." John explained, tapping Hannah's nose. She giggled happily.

Davy scoffed, walking over to the ice box so he could find his band mates something to eat. Paul tried to contain his laughter at Davy's obvious annoyance.

"Hey Davy?" George asked. "Think we can stay and watch you guys rehearse?"

"We've got nothing better to do." Ringo chimed in.

"I'm fine with it as long as the others are." Davy said, sticking his head in the ice box. "But she's got to go."

"Me?" Hannah asked innocently.

"Yes, you." Davy said, pointing at her with a jar of jelly.

"Why me? I thought you loved me, Davy Jones?" Hannah pouted.

"Till you ran off with John Lennon, he did." Paul smirked, no longer able to keep his amusement to himself.

Hannah gasped in a mock tone, quickly standing and bolting out the back door. John stood to run after her, but was stopped by the hands of Paul, George, and Ringo. With an annoyed glare he sat back down, followed by his band mates.

Davy set out some cereal, milk, orange juice, bowls, and spoons before walking over by the Beatles. Mike was the first to emerge from the upstairs bedroom, wool hat in hand. His hair was a mess. His free hand was trying to tame the black nest, but after many failed attempts, Mike resorted to disappearing into the bathroom to brush it.

"Does he always wear that hat?" John whispered.

"It keeps the hair out of his eyes." Davy said simply.

"Why doesn't he just cut it?" Ringo asked.

Davy cringed. "They don't like their hair cut. I'm the only one who ever does. Mike does on occasion, but it's never cut real short."

Micky came down next. His hair was beginning to curl on the ends, but he didn't care. He flopped down into his chair at the table and began preparing himself some cereal. Mike came out shortly after and did the same. Davy moved to sit in his seat as Peter came down the stairs, only to head straight for the bathroom.

"How'd you guys sleep?" Davy asked as casually as they could.

"Like a rock." Micky yawned.

"Man, why'd you wake us up? I was having such a good dream." Mike complained, supporting his head with one arm. "It was in the future, I think. We had made it big. Last thing I remember was Micky… or at least I think it was Micky, singing in a recording booth. He was singing about the summer... I think."

"It's four in the afternoon! We have a gig in a couple hours! It's not like I can do it alone. Besides, what will the boss say when only one Monkee shows up?" Davy retorted, surprised by his band mates' drowsiness.

"Go borrow some monkeys from the zoo?" Micky tried to joke.

"Ha, ha, very funny, Mick." Davy replied. Peter came out of the bathroom and sat down at the table, staring at the remaining empty bowl. He let out a long yawn before grabbing the bowl and preparing himself some cereal. When he was done, Davy began to put the extra breakfast supplies away. "By the way, mates, the Beatles want to hear us rehearse."

Mike dropped his spoon, Peter missed his mouth, and Micky's head fell straight into his bowl of cereal. "What?" Mike asked, looking at the four musicians sitting on their couch.

"That's right, mate." Paul smiled. "We like to hear you rehearse."

"Before Norm finds us." George added.

Mike removed his hat and scratched his head. "Well… I… uh… I don't see why not. Are you three fine with it?"

"Uh huh." Peter said, finally noticing the mess he caused.

"I'm game." Davy said from the other side of the kitchen.

"Micky?" They all looked to where the Monkee slept soundly in his bowl. "Mick?" Mike grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him up. "MICKY!"

Micky jolted upright, surprised by the sudden noise. "Huh? What?"

"You cool with the Beatles listening to us practice?" Mike asked.

"Oh, yeah, yeah." Micky nodded, still out of it. Mike let go and Micky's head landed in his bowl again.

"Oh dear…" Davy moaned to himself. This was not going to end well.


	5. Chapter 5- The Night Before

Chapter 5- The Night Before

"Were you telling lies, ah, the night before? Was I so unwise, ah, the night before? When I held you near, you were so sincere. Treat me like you did the night before, like the night before…" The Beatles sang, playing the Monkees' instruments. After a few run throughs of the Monkees' set list, the Beatles insisted they play for them. It was an honor, really. As the last chords of 'the Night Before,' faded from the pad, the four Beatles gently replaced the instruments to their proper positions.

"Man, that was real groovy," Micky mused, taking his drumsticks from Ringo. "But we have to be going now. The big boss won't be too happy with us if we're late."

"We can help pack up," Paul offered, not exactly sure where to put Peter's bass. Peter took it from him and readjusted his guitar strap so it would fit a right-handed musician like himself.

"That's not needed." Mike insisted, taking his guitar from George and placing it in its case.

"If you say so." John stated. "I think we should-"

"JOHN! PAUL! GEORGE! RINGO!" An all too familiar voice to the Beatles screamed from the beach.

Suddenly, a loud banging was heard from the front door, accompanied by an all too familiar voice to the Monkees. "MIKE! MICKY! DAVY! PETER!"

"Oh no…" Chorused the eight men. "We really have to go." They all said at the same time. The four Beatles ran out the back door while Davy, Micky, and Peter continued to pack up. Mike went to the front door.

"Hi, ho, Mr. Babbitt. What can we do for you?" Mike asked casually as he band mates pretended to work.

"Rent." Mr. Babbitt said sternly, opening a hand to Mike.

"We're actually going to be heading out to work right now, Mr. Babbitt." Mike explained, wringing his neck. "We get paid tonight. Come back tomorrow and we will have it for you, for sure!"

Mr. Babbitt rolled his eyes. "Fine." Mr. Babbitt turned on his heel and walked away. With a deep exhale of breath, Mike shut the door. Quickly he grabbed his guitar case and followed his band mates out to the garage to load up the MonkeeMobile and head off to the Vincent Van Go-Go.

"This band is the hippest thing on this side of the country!" Norm exclaimed as he, Shake, and the Beatles walked up to the Vincent Van Go-Go. "You've never seen anything like it." Once Norm had rallied up the band, he suggested that for dinner they go to a club he discovered the night before. The Beatles, of course, agreed. They walked inside and were greeted by a familiar face.

"Johnny Poo!" Hannah, Davy's blonde, screamed, hugging the Beatle.

"Hannah, babe, what's shakin' you gorgeous beauty?" John replied, embracing the hug.

"John-" Norm began.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Sorry babe, but the lads and I want a table."

"Oh," Hannah said, slightly upset. "Right this way." Hannah took the band to a booth and got their drink orders. She turned on her heel and walked away, straight back to the bar. As she began mixing the drinks, she began to converse with a customer.

"Hannah, darling, this is it!"

"It is indeed, Father." Hannah smiled, taking a small flask out from under the counter and pouring a drop into the drink. "I hope you keep your end of the bargain. That Beatle makes me sick."

"Of course, of course, my dear daughter. Is there enough for both bands?" Hannah's father asked excitedly.

"Both bands? I thought we were only giving it to the one? The other has gotten two doses already!"

"Security, my dear. This third dosage will surely keep them out long enough for me to snatch them tonight. Now remember the plan. You must go home with the Beatle. Groot will follow behind and help you kidnap them."

"Father, don't use that word. It makes me feel even worse about this." Hannah sighed, preparing a fourth drink that would have none of her father's potion.

"Fine, but that is the plan. You bring them back to the castle and we will start the experiments. I will take care of the Monkees."

"Yes Father." Hannah sighed, preparing another drink.

On stage, the Monkees were having a ball, really getting into 'Mary, Mary.' The Beatles, Norm, and Shake were all getting into it. Hannah walked back up to the table, a tray filled with glasses and colorful umbrellas on her arm.

"Here you are, fellas." Hannah smiled, placing drinks on the table. John, George, and Ringo each plucked their pink umbrellas from their drinks, John taking them and beginning his comedic routine. Norm, Shake, and Paul all laughed, twirling their blue umbrellas in their drinks.

"Oh, it is such a hot day out, don't you think dear?" John asked George, laying the mini umbrellas on his shoulder as a Victorian lady would.

"It's the coldest day I've ever seen. I mean look at you! How I ever decided to marry a heartless, venomous woman such as you, I'll never know." George deadpanned, trying not to smile.

"Oh George, but she loves you!" Paul retorted.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" The other three sang out.

Norm instantly shushed them. "Do you four want to be found out?"

"Oh Norm, lighten up. Here, have an umbrella." John said, plopping a pink umbrella in Norm's drink. This got Norm to smile, at least.

"Monday had a sad child, always feeling low down. Tuesday had a dream child, she's always on the go," The band heard Micky Dolenz sing.

"So I'm in love with Saturday's child!" The four Beatles sang along. Norm sat and stared at the band, shocked.

"How do you know that?" Shake asked in awe.

"We're musicians," Paul said simply, popping his blue umbrella in Shake's drink. "We can predict what others are going to sing."

"That's rubbish!" Norm exclaimed.

"Not if you're a musician." Paul laughed.

"Speaking of musicians," Norm said slyly, "Where did you four run off to today while we were at the beach?"

"What's it to you?" John asked coldly.

"Oh knock off it, John." Paul said. "We were just visiting with some local birds at their house. Real sweet girls, they were, too. Nothing to worry about, Norm. One of them was that bird who was all over John earlier, right mates?"

"Right." George, John, and Ringo said.

"Michelle was smashing."

"Anna was divine."

"Molly was adorable."

"Hannah, oh my she is a saint." John mused.

"If you say so…" Norm sighed, taking a sip of his drink.

The night went on as it did. The Beatles joked, Norm steamed, and Shake told him to calm down. However, they all did take an interest in the Monkees as they continued to play throughout the night. John teased Paul when Davy sang, 'I Wanna Be Free,' telling him it was a knock off of 'Yesterday.' Paul teased John during Mike's guitar solo in 'Valleri,' saying John didn't have the talent to perform such a riff. It was a night of fun and games, each musician taking a hold of the relaxation time they had.

By the end of the night, each man's eyes grew weary. Norm stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I think it's time to head out, don't you men?"

"Aye, aye, captain." John mumbled sheepishly.

"I'll pay the bill. Waitress!" Norm shouted, pointing at Hannah. Hannah rushed over, a tray of dirty glasses piled high.

"Check, please." He said simply, stretching.

"Oh, yes, of course. Johnny cakes, are you leaving?" Hannah asked innocently.

"I'm afraid so, doll." John mused, throwing an arm around the waitress.

Looking at her feet, crestfallen, she tried to find the right words. Suddenly, she heard John speak. "Would you like to come back with me?"

"John!" Five voice yelped in sync. However, the deed was done.

"Can I?" Hannah asked, looking up at John with hope in her eyes.

"Of course you can, doll." John laughed. "When do you get let out of this joint?"

"Give me five minutes!" Hannah chirped, running off.

"Can I sleep in your room?" George asked Paul and Ringo. Both musicians nodded. Norm was pinching the bridge of his nose and Shake was shaking his head.

Hannah came back with their check. Norm paid it, she ran off again, and returned with her coat. The Beatles, Norm, Shake, and Hannah left the Vincent Van Go-Go, walking off into the cold, ominous night. Half an hour later, the Monkees did the same, going home to beds that awaited their arrival.


	6. Chapter 6- The Morning After

Chapter 6-The Morning After

BANG BANG BANG! 

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Davy yelled, rushing down the spiral staircase, annoyed that he was awoken so rudely and none of his band mates bothered to answer the door themselves. Davy walked over to the door and opened it. "Paul?"

Standing at the door was none other than Paul McCartney, soaked to the skin, panic in his eyes. "They're after me, please let me in. I ran as quick as I could."

About to ask what he was running from, Davy's question was quickly answered by the scream of girls from down the road. He stepped aside, almost pushing the Beatle into the house. He slammed the door shut and locked it. A crash of thunder was quickly accompanied by the distant murmur of arguing girls.

"Thank you," Paul panted, "You know, I would have thought that no one would be willing to chase a Beatle in a storm like this, but I guess I was wrong."

"Here, let me get you a towel." Davy said, running over to the bathroom. Davy quickly returned with one, handing it over to Paul.

"We've got a big problem." Paul said, drying his hair.

"What's that?" Davy asked, walking over to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

"Read this," Paul said, searching his pockets. Quickly he found a slightly soaked piece of paper. He handed it to Davy and proceeded to dry his face.

Davy scanned it and read, "Dear Mr. Beatle, I have your band mates, as well as three of the Monkees. If you ever wish to see them again, please come to 161 Rosebud Lane at 11:30pm. Please come with the short Monkee, who goes by the name of Davy. He lives at 1334 Beachwood Drive. Do not call the police. If you do, you will never see the remaining Beatles or Monkees alive ever again. Sincerely, a friend."

"I woke up this morning and John, George, and Ringo were missing." Paul explained.

"I don't think… I don't think this is right. Mike, Micky, and Peter are upstairs." Davy said, and as if to try and prove himself right, he began heading upstairs. Paul followed.

"They are?" Paul asked.

"They should be." Davy said, opening the bedroom door. To his surprise he found four empty beds, three of which had the covers tossed carelessly on the floor. Davy even noticed Mike's wool hat was still sitting on the nightstand next to his bed. "Uh oh."

Paul looked over him to see the empty bedroom as well. "What do we do?"

"This isn't right." Davy muttered, quickly running back downstairs. Paul followed.

"Mike? Micky? Peter?" Davy yelled to the room, but there was no response. Davy began to open every door downstairs, hoping his friends were somewhere in the pad. After no luck of finding them in the pad, he ran out onto the back porch, not caring how wet it was. "MIKE? MICKY? DA- I mean, PETER?" The only response he got was the sound of his own echo off the beach and another crash of thunder. Disconcerted, Davy walked into the pad. He stood in the silence of the pad for a moment, feeling Paul's eyes on him.

Paul repeated his question. "What do we do?"

Davy sighed, walking into the downstairs bedroom. He stopped in the middle of it to re-read the note. "Well," Davy began, handing the note to Paul. "We're just going to have to go there when it's time."

"You must be joking!" Paul exclaimed.

"I'm not. There isn't much we can do."

"How do you know?" Paul asked. Davy began to walk towards the closet, pulling out a large pirate-like chest.

"Because the 'friend' who signed the letter is Dr. Mendoza. Me mates and I have met him before. He tried to steal our musical talents the last time. I have no idea what he plans on doing to us this time."

"How do you know it's him?"

"He lives on Rosebud Lane. We were there before."

"Isn't that the name of a sled?"

"We thought so."

"What's that then?" Paul asked, pointing towards the chest.

"Well, you want to get George, Ringo, and John back, right?"

"If I don't want Norm to kill me, yes." Paul replied, walking closer to Davy.

"Well, in this chest is everything we need to save them." Davy opened up the chest and pulled out a black turtleneck. He handed it to Paul and grabbed another from the chest.

"Are you suggesting we break in and save them?" Paul asked as the Monkees' infamous "Bat-Hook" was pulled out of the chest.

"Well, we can't call the police, because they don't do anything till the last minute anyways. We can't do what the note says because we would probably be walking into a trap, and we can't sit back and do nothing." Davy said, testing a flashlight.

Paul stared in awe as the short Englishman continued to pull needed supplies out of the chest. "When are we going to do this?" He asked after Davy shut the chest.

"Tonight, before 11:30. There must be some reason why he asked for us to arrive at that time." Davy mused, collecting some of the supplies from the floor. Suddenly, a light bulb lit up. "I got it!"

"You do?" Paul asked.

"Just the other day, I was watching the news and they said Dr. Mendoza was released from prison on the account that his scientific progress be monitored by the government. 11:30 must be the time they leave the castle."

"Castle? He lives in a castle?" Paul asked, struggling to grab the Bat-Hook.

"Yeah." Davy said, shutting the lid of the chest.

"So we're just going to trespass onto this guy's property, steal our friends back, and leave? Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet."

"Is this going to work?"

"It usually does."

"How do you know?"

"Because the main character in a story always wins." Davy said triumphantly, walking out of the bedroom with all the supplies needed to save his friends. "Paul, I'm going to need you to try on some of those turtlenecks. I think Peter's might fit you."


	7. Chapter 7- Ninja By Night

Chapter 7-Ninja By Night

The rest of the day went on fairly quietly. Paul called Norm to let him know that he and the lads were out sightseeing, and that he should have a day of utter relaxation. After a three-way argument between Paul, Norm, and Shake, both Paul and Shake being on the same team, Norm gave in and let the boys be boys. Paul and Davy spent the rest of the day songwriting, coming up with some flops, but also _When I'm 64, Your Mother Should Know_ , and _Daydream Believer._ The two planned on presenting these songs to their band mates once they were saved. However, the time was quickly upon them for them to leave the safety of the pad and embrace their mission to save the Beatles and the Monkees.

Davy and Paul pulled up to the corner of Rosebud Lane and Elsinore Road. Both of the men were wearing black turtlenecks, Davy wearing his own and Paul wearing Micky's. They turtlenecks were complemented with black bell bottoms and black suede boots. It was roughly 10:30 now, giving them a half of an hour to walk up to Mendoza's castle. Davy parked on the side of the road just at the road sign. He turned off the car and turned to Paul.

"Are you ready for this?" Davy asked, reaching behind him to grab a backpack that had all of their supplies in it.

"I think so… Are you?" Paul asked.

"No," Davy admitted, handing the bag to Paul. He reached back and brought up the Bat-Hook. He handed it to Paul and reached behind again. "But I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"Do you four always do crazy things like this?" Paul asked, watching as Davy pulled Mike's green wool hat from the back seat.

Davy re-positioned himself in the driver's seat, looking down at Mike's hat. "You'd be surprise. Last week we faced off against some evil Chinese restaurant owner who was trying to build a doomsday bug. We usually fall into these things on accident. The owner hid the blueprints in fortune cookies and Peter took one of the cookies home to a dog we didn't have."

"What?" Paul asked, completely baffled by the last sentence.

"Exactly. They ended up kidnapping Micky instead of Peter, then Peter turned himself in, and Mike and I had to save them."

"So you do this kind of thing all the time?"

"More or less," Davy handed Paul Mike's wool hat. "Put this in there." Davy gestured to the bag on his lap. Paul nodded, grabbing the hat and popping it into the bag. Paul and Davy got out of the MonkeeMobile. Paul carried the Bat-Hook and Davy carried the bag. Thus they began their trudge up the hill towards Mendoza's castle.

Mike's head hurt. Everything was blurry. He wasn't sure what was going on, but the metal beneath him indicated something wasn't right. He tried to call out for one of his friends, but he couldn't find his voice. Roughly he felt around, finding metal bars around him. He was in a cage! Trying to keep his cool, he felt around to find something on the floor. He jumped when his hand touched something fuzzy. In coordination with his jump, an animal-like squeal echoed in the room. Paranoid, Mike tried to call for Micky, but to no avail did he accomplish this task. It didn't work for Peter or Davy's name either. However, as he tried to call for his friends, fatigue took hold, driving him back into sleep. He flopped onto the metal floor, his heart begging for sight or some recognition that his friends were safe.

"I can't get it to go up that far!" Davy hissed, tossing the Bat-Hook up again. It was 11:10 now, and the two musicians were in a crunch for time.

"Let me try!" Paul offered,taking the hook from Davy. He tossed it up and down a few times before finally getting it to stick the fifth time.

"Alright Paul, you first." Davy said once the hook was secure.

"Me?" Paul asked, looking up at the window that was a good three stories above them.

"Yeah, come on!" Davy said, motioning towards the rope. Obviously he was new to this. Paul grabbed the rope, tugged on it a few times, then began scaling the wall. Davy followed suit. As they scaled the wall, they quietly conversed.

"Davy?"

"Yeah?"

"Where are we going to find the others?"

"I don't know, Paul."

"Do you have a plan yet?"

"Sort of."

"What is it?"

"We're going to get into the castle, then as quietly as possible, we're going to search every room for the guys. Then once we find them, we're going to come back to this window and leave."

"Alright… I think. Is that the best you got?"

"Yes. With how nervous I am right now, I can't think of anything else."

"Fair enough."

"Do you have any ideas?" Davy asked, kind of hoping Paul would come up with something better.

"No."

Then they reached the window. Clumsily, Paul flopped into the castle, Davy landing on top of him once he got in.

"Davy!" Paul hissed.

"Sorry!" Davy hissed back, rolling off of the Beatle. They both stood, brushing themselves off.

"Right," Paul said, looking down the hall in which they landed in. It was a long, stone hallway, the walls decorated with portraits of sophisticated scientists. Fire-lit torches hung off the walls, giving the hall a haunting glow. On the walls there were many, many doors. "Where do we start?"

"You take this side," Davy said, pointing left. "I'll take this side. Just start opening doors and looking inside.

"But what if that scientist guy is in it?" Paul asked.

"Then yell for me and we'll run." Davy said, opening the first door, which was a closet with a skeleton inside. He jumped when he saw the bony being, and quickly shut the door, his hand on his chest.

"Right…" Paul said, looking towards the first door on the left. Nervously he opened it, only to find an empty bedroom. Quietly he shut the door and moved on to the next room. This routine continued on both sides of the hall for a good two minutes.

"Paul!" Davy yelped. "Come here!" He was staring down a stairwell he has just revealed behind the tenth door he checked. Paul came to his side, looking down the stairwell as well.

"Are we going down there?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, I think we should. I think I remember this stairwell. It leads to the laboratory." Davy said, beginning to walk down. Paul grabbed him by the back of the turtleneck and yanked him back up.

"Are you crazy?" Paul asked, pulling the little Englishman back to the floor he stood on. "What if that scientist is down there?"

"We'll be extra quiet then. Come on, Paul!" Davy said, putting a finger to his lips and continuing his voyage back down the stairs. Paul sighed, regretfully following Davy.

They tiptoed down the stairs, cringing every time the stairs creaked. Once they got to the bottom, they were only welcomed by a dark room. Davy fished for a torch and once he found one, he handed it to Paul. Paul clicked it on and began searching for a light switch. Davy found a torch for himself and did the same.

"Davy, check this out," Paul said from the other side of the room. Davy walked over to see what Paul needed. "He's got bugs." Paul had his flashlight pointed towards a small glass exhibit, which contained three small bugs inside. "What kind are they?"

"I don't know." Davy admitted. "Beetles of some sort?" Davy shrugged his shoulders and walked away, continuing his search for a light switch. Paul did the same.

After a minute or so of searching, Paul declared victory by flipping on the light switch. The laboratory was the same as Davy remembered it, except this time, instead of a giant table holding captive an android, a large tower stood, hidden under a cloth tarp. Paul and Davy both stared at it.

"Should we see what's underneath?" Davy asked, walking towards it.

"No." Paul said confidently.

"But what if it's a clue?" Davy asked, continuing his voyage over. He didn't know why, but he felt that whatever was under the tarp was important. Unlike last time, he wasn't going to ignore his gut.

"Fine, but if it kills us, you'll be world renowned for killing Paul McCartney." Paul said, crossing his arms. Davy rolled his eyes. Famous icons were so vain.

Nervously, Davy grabbed a hold of the tarp, and with a yank, the tarp flew off, revealing three large cages stacked on top of each other, each cage holding captive a sleeping monkey.


	8. Chapter 8- Monkee in the Middle

Chapter 8- Monkee in the Middle

"He's performing experiments on animals!" Paul gasped, "Davy, how?"

"I don't know," Davy admitted, observing the three animals.

In the very top cage slept a monkey with almost-blonde fur. It slept in a curled up ball, covering the monkey's facial features. The second monkey was a dark shade of brown with curly fur. The animal was lying on its back, spread out across the cage floor. The third monkey, in the bottom cage, was completely black, lying on its stomach, facing away from Paul and Davy. The two men looked at the cages in awe, surprised any man could possibly think of experimenting on animals such as these.

"Do you think they have something to do with what he is going to do to the others?" Paul asked Davy, their eyes not leaving the cages.

"Yeah. I think we should free them." Davy said, "I should have some bobby pins in the bag."

Paul opened up the bag on Davy's back and began searching for bobby pins. "Wait, why do you have bobby pins?"

"Girls are very needy, you know. It never hurts to keep some on you just in case a girl needs one." Davy smiled to himself, recalling the multiple dates he has had where he pleased women by just giving them a bobby pin to keep the hair out of their eyes.

Paul shrugged his shoulders and continued searching. He pulled out Mike's wool hat. "Here, hold this. It keeps getting in my way." Paul handed Davy the hat and kept searching. At the sight of Mike's hat, Davy could feel his heart drop, but it quickly rose again thanks to the sound of an animal call. 

"What was that?" Davy asked, looking around, his grip tightening on the hat.

"Davy…" Paul said, pointing past him. Davy turned and looked, noticing that the black monkey was awake, and staring right at him. Davy froze. He stared right into the animal's eyes, and it into his. Suddenly, without thinking, Davy took a step forward.

"Davy!" Paul hissed. "The guys…"

The monkey readjusted its position and reached a hand out to Davy. However, once the monkey saw its hand, it jumped back in surprise, all of his attention now on his hand. Quickly his attention shifted to his other hand, then to the rest of his body. The animal seemed to be genuinely surprised by itself.

"That's… odd." Davy commented, still watching the animal. After a moment of utter disbelief, the monkey looked back up at Davy, fear in its eyes. Its eyes traveled down to the hat in Davy's hands. The animal jumped back to the bars, its hand outstretched farther than ever. It was yelling and making all sorts of noises, gesturing towards the hat.

"I think he wants Mike's hat." Paul commented, stepping up towards Davy.

"He can't have it! It's Mike's." Davy said, looking from Paul to the monkey. At that statement the monkey sighed, but continued calling. This quickly woke up the other two monkeys, who each had a shock of their own. The blonde monkey seemed to be depressed by the sudden change, whereas the brown monkey reacted similar to how the black monkey did. Soon all three monkeys were calling and yelling for the hat, their arms flailing between the bars.

Davy looked between the monkeys and Mike's hat, considering his options. The animals would surely alert Mendoza and get them all caught in a second. He and Paul could run and continue their search for Mike, Micky, Peter, John, George, and Ringo, or they could sit and deal with monkeys. Paul had to wake Davy from his thoughts.

"Davy… they've stopped."

He looked up. All three monkeys were silent, all looking at Davy. Their arms were now at their sides, and they all looked at Davy, fear in their eyes. Davy sighed. He couldn't leave them. Davy took a step forward, and Paul followed.

"Did you find the bobby pin?" Davy asked.

"Yeah, here." Paul handed Davy the bobby pin. Davy approached the black monkey's cage, slightly nervous as to what was going to happen once he opened the cage door. He didn't have to wait very long for something to happen.

Davy stepped up to the door, Mike's hat under his arm. The monkey quickly reached out and snatched the hat from Davy's possession, slapping it onto his head, then promptly adjusting it. Davy stared in disbelief. The only words out of his mouth were, "Hey!"

The monkey, with something of an annoyed expression on his face, pointed to the hat on his head. The monkey murmured something, which caused the other two monkeys to laugh. Davy still didn't get what they were trying to say. After a moment the black monkey sighed and began to mimic the movements of a person playing a guitar. Davy was still confused.

"Davy," Paul said, placing a hand on the short Englishman's shoulder. "I think I know what they're trying to say."

Davy shook his head. "I don't really care what they're trying to say, I need Mike's hat back!" Davy lunged at the cage in an attempt to grab the hat, but Paul pulled him back.

"Davy! That _is_ Mike!" Paul yelled. At the statement all three monkeys looked at the two humans, smiles on their faces. The black monkey nodded happily, pointing at Paul. "See?"

Davy could feel his heart drop. _That was Mike?_ He looked up at the next monkey, who grinned wildly at him. _Micky, obviously._ He looked up at the next monkey, who gave him more of a sincere smile. _That must be Peter._ "If that's…" Davy said, his mind moving onto the next conclusion. "Then does that mean those bugs are…" The monkeys nodded wildly at the tapered sentence, pointing at the glass exhibit with the beetles in it. Paul's face drained of all color.

"Guys!" Paul yelped, running over to the glass case. Davy ran back over to the cage and worked on picking the lock on Mike's cage.

"I'm sorry fellas." Davy muttered, unlocking the cage.

"You should be." A new voice declared, echoing throughout the entire laboratory. All actions were arrested by the voice. Nervously Davy and Paul turned towards their only exit to find Dr. Mendoza standing there, Groot at his side, a pistol in his hand. "Welcome back, Davy Jones."

"Thanks," Davy said. "Can you let us be? We're trying to free our friends here."

"No, no, no. I don't think so. That would be too simple. Come with me, boys. We need to talk." Dr. Mendoza mused, motioning for Paul and Davy to leave. "And put the exhibit down, Mr. McCartney, you will not be needing that." Nervously Paul put the exhibit down and he and Davy left with Dr. Mendoza and Groot.

After a few minutes to ensure they were alone, Mike slowly pushed the cage door open. It opened with surprising ease, squeaking a little as it made its voyage.

 _"Well then…"_ Mike cooed, stepping out of the cage. _"Guys, Davy got the door open."_

 _"We can see that, Mike. Now let us out!"_ Micky said, rattling the bars on his cage.

Mike climbed onto the cages, climbing up to Micky's lock. Roughly he jimmied the lock. When it clicked, Mike climbed up to Peter's cage so Micky could get out. The process was repeated for Peter. When Mike successfully opened his lock, he hopped back down to the floor, followed by Peter who slowly climbed down the cages.

 _"Micky, go get the Beatles."_ Mike ordered, he and Peter making their way towards the stairwell.

 _"Yes sir!"_ Micky hopped over to the glass exhibit, pulling the three bugs out of it and setting them in his hair.

 _"That's not going to end well."_ Peter deadpanned, watching as Micky joined them at the stairwell.

 _"What?"_ Micky asked. _"I don't exactly have pockets. How did we turn into monkeys anyway?"_

 _"Mendoza probably turned us into them. Come on, we need to go save Davy and Paul."_ Mike said. Quickly the three monkeys began their journey into the stairwell, hoping to find Davy and Paul in time before Mendoza decides to experiment on them.


	9. Chapter 9-Dealing with the Devil

Chapter 9-Dealing with the Devil

 _"Micky!"_ Mike called out at the stray monkey who was rummaging through a coat closet.

 _"What?"_ Micky asked, turning around with a top hat on his head, so big it covered his eyes.

 _"Stop goofing around, we have to save Davy and Paul!"_ Mike scolded him, grabbing him by the tail and yanking him out of the closet. Mike threw the top hat into the closet and quickly, but quietly, shut the door. _"Let's go!"_

 _"Fine."_ Micky muttered, following Mike.

Peter had made his way through the hall, checking different doors. At the end of the hall, to the right, Peter had opened the door and jumped up and down, quietly containing his excitement. _"Guys, I think I found them!"_ In the room he found a balcony, and under the balcony was a large dining room. The three monkeys crawled into the balcony, listening in as they watched Dr. Mendoza push their friends into the room.

"Sit." Mendoza ordered, gesturing towards the chairs at the table. The table was filled with fancy types of food and dishes of all sorts. Davy and Paul said down, but ignored the delicacies before them. They both gave Mendoza a horrid, sickening glare.

"Is this the part of the story where you tell us your grand plan?" Davy asked, pretending to be totally intrigued.

"Or will we have to play Charades for it?" Paul poked on.

"You two think you're jokesters, don't you?" Mendoza chuckled. He cocked his gun. "Think again before you speak." The two musicians put their hands up in surrender. "Now then," He turned his attention to Groot, who was standing behind him. "Lock the doors. I do not want anyone listening in or interfering with this."

"But there is no one else here, sir. Your daughter has gone out for the night, remember sir?" Groot said in his unique slur.

"You never know, Groot. You never know… Now lock those doors!"

"Yes sir," Groot locked the doors firmly then returned to his master's side.

"Right then, let's talk," Mendoza sat himself down across from Davy and Paul, setting the gun on his plate. "I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you two to come tonight."

"Well, we figured you called us here so late because you didn't want the government to get a whiff of your evil endeavors." Paul mused.

"But why could you not have called upon us at a lighter hour? Maybe call us out for lunch? I need my beauty sleep." Davy yawned, lying his head on the table, pretending to be completely disinterested.

"Quiet!" Mendoza snapped at Davy. "My concern is with Mr. McCartney first. You will get your turn to talk."

"Thanks for the memo." Davy sighed, rolling his eyes. On the outside, he seemed totally cool, but on the inside, well, let's just say his heart was beating in his throat and a thousand questions were running through his head.

He glanced around the room. It was a grand hall, for sure. Curtains hung high on the walls and around balconies. Under the curtains authentic paintings presented themselves grandly. In the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement in one of the balconies. Could that be another evil villain, like the blonde that left him for John Lennon? No, Groot said she had gone out. Could it be Groot? Davy glanced over and saw Groot pouring wine into Mendoza's goblet. He glanced back up at the balcony and saw a long, dark tail wagging in the air. _Oh no._

"Now Mr. McCartney, do you know why I called you here tonight?" Mendoza asked, gesturing Groot to pour some wine for their guests.

"You threatened to kill my friends," Paul said, making a gross face at the wine. "That's all I know."

"How do you-" Davy began, but then Mendoza jumped on his gun. "Never mind…" Davy said, leaning back again.

"Anyway, Mr. McCartney, I've called you here because your predicament is different than Mr. Jones's." Mendoza set the gun down again, but left a hand on it, just in case.

"How is it different? You turned our band members into bloody animals!" Paul asked.

"Ah, but you are far more famous than the Monkees. I can use you more than Mr. Jones, here. See, he has nothing to his name. If I kill them all off, no one will care. You, however, I could get into a lot of trouble if my treatment of your friends was revealed."

"You've got that right. So what do you want?" 

"If you do not do as I say, I will kill your band members like the little bugs they are. I changed the Monkees for the sake of experimentation. When I saw it worked, I changed your friends not for experimentation, but for bribery. Do as I say, and your friends with continue to live their new lives. If I get one word from the police," Mendoza laughed. He plucked a grape off a nearby plate and observed it between his thumb and first finger. After a moment, he squeeze it flat. "I'll crush them. Understood?"

"What do you want me to do?" Paul asked, leaning forward. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Really, he couldn't believe any of this was happening. He was secretly hoping he would wake up back home in England and have a completely Beatle-normal day.

"Don't do it." Davy said quickly. This time a bullet whizzed past Davy's head, proceeded by a gunshot.

"You're lucky." Mendoza said coolly. He returned his attention to Paul. "First, in order to explain your band mates disappearance, you need to tell everyone on television that the others have gone missing at sea. While the four of you were on vacation here, you decided to take a trip out to sea. There was a fault with your boat and it sunk. You're the only one who made it back to land."

"Is that really going to work? Police are going to investigate. They will ask which port, which dealer… They will even want to see paperwork!" Paul exclaimed.

"Groot, get the file." Mendoza smiled, waving his free hand. Groot disappeared for a moment, only to reappear with a manila folder. Mendoza handed the folder to Paul who looked at the contents inside. Davy leaned over for a look. They were legal agreement papers to rent a boat from a harbor Davy knew well. It was a few miles off the ocean by their pad. The only thing missing was a signature. They heard Mendoza cock his gun again. "Sign the papers, or I'll kill Mr. Jones." He pointed the gun at Davy's head. The percussionist gave a small whimper and looked nervously at Paul.

"I need a pen." Paul said weakly. Mendoza nodded and Groot handed Paul a pen. "Thanks," Paul said nervously. He signed the paperwork, his left hand flying. When he was finished, Groot took the pen and folder from him. "Now what?"

Davy tugged on his sleeve and shook his head fiercely. With a look of worry, Paul shrugged his shoulders. "What else do you want of me?" Paul asked.

"After you assure the disappearance of your band mates, I'd like for you to continue your career as you should. Singing and dancing and doing whatever you do."

"You dance?" Davy mouthed. Paul shook his head and shrugged.

"That's it?" Paul asked. Mendoza laughed.

"No, no. You see, I have a son I would like you to include into your act."

"Oh dear." Davy moaned, flopping his head onto the table. He picked himself back up and asked, "You still have that monster? Whose talents have you stolen this time?"

"I have not stolen anyone's talents, yet." Davy did not like the smile he was giving him. "But I do plan on stealing the talents from you and your monkey friends again." Mendoza laughed, "I mean, your friends are now my test monkeys! They won't be needing those talents anymore!"

"But I need mine!" Davy yelped. This was when Mendoza stood and pointed the gun once more at Davy's head. His face had gone from tasting success to utter determination.

"Groot, go get the android ready. Our guests and I will be down momentarily. Stand, Davy Jones!" Davy jumped out of his seat, hands in the air.

"What are you going to do to him?" Paul asked, jumping to his feet as well.

"I'm going to shoot his shoulder, just so he will live long enough for me to extract his musical abilities. Then I am going to kill him, since I have no use for him after that." An evil sneer appeared on Mendoza's face once more.


	10. Chapter 10- Together or Not at All

Chapter 10- Together or Not at All

What happened next seemed like almost a blur to all it involved, for it happened so quickly, and to be fair Davy wasn't there for most of it.

First, from the sky fell two giant balls of fur, each landing on the table, causing it to crumble under their weight. Two heads popped up from the mess of food and wood to spot Davy and Paul in surprise. This was just the distraction needed for the blonde monkey to snatch the gun from Mendoza's grip. Once in possession of the gun, the monkey jumped away, only to find himself landing in Groot's arms. He struggled and screamed, but was able to keep the gun out of arm's reach due to his new tail.

"Davy, go call the police!" Paul hissed, watching Groot scramble to grab the gun from the monkey, all while keeping him hostage. "Your friends and I will distract them." Davy hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and ran off while Mendoza now distracted himself with the blonde monkey. Neither man could retrieve the gun.

"Good, monkey, monkey, monkey. Give Dr. Mendoza the gun, now." Mendoza chided the monkey. However, the monkey frowned and shook its head in a pout. Finally, however, Mendoza slapped the poor primate, causing him to drop the gun. Happily Mendoza picked it up and targeted the two monkeys who still seemed to be arguing over something on the ruins of the table. "You first, Mr. Nesmith."

The monkeys stopped dead in their tracks, looking on at the gun in horror. As Mendoza pulled the trigger, both monkeys jumped out of the way, the brown monkey landing right into Paul's arms, causing them both to fall backwards into a cabinet. The monkey quickly got to its feet, opening the cabinet's bottom drawer with one hand. He seemed to be cherishing the other. Inside the drawer was a large shotgun. The monkey looked down at Paul, nodding his head towards the drawer. Paul sat up and looked inside. Quickly he grabbed the gun, seeing if it was loaded. To his advantage, it was.

Two more gunshots went off at the black monkey, who was jumping from balcony to balcony with surprising skill. Accompanied by the gunshots was a loud yelp from Groot, who suddenly dropped the blonde monkey.

"What are you doing, Groot? Catch him!" Mendoza screamed as he now had two moving targets.

"Something is- YEOW!" He screamed. "Something bit me!" He yelped, scratching himself in search of the invisible fiend.

"Stop lollygagging and catch the-" Mendoza began, aiming for another shot at the monkeys. "OUCH!" He was bitten as well.

He then heard a gunshot not from his own gun. Silence fell in the dining room, and all eyes were pacing back and forth between Paul and Mendoza. Paul held the shotgun in his hands, and it was aiming right at Mendoza's head.

"Put the gun down or I'll shoot." Paul threatened.

Mendoza threw up his gun at the Beatle. "Put the gun down or _I'll_ shoot." Mendoza sneered, his leg twitching from being bitten again.

There was a long moment of silence in which neither man put the gun down. Groot did not chase the three rambunctious monkeys, and they did not run away. All they did was stare in awe.

Then they shot.

* * *

Both Paul and Mendoza fell. Mendoza clutching his side, Paul, his head. They landed on the ground with a thud. The last thing Paul could consciously remember was hearing the sounds of footsteps and foreign voices rushing in his head. The last thing he heard was Davy's voice, calling out to him to remain conscious.

Micky and Peter noticed their three insect friends climb out of the pant legs of their victims. Quickly they picked them up and placed them on their heads for safe keeping. Then they ran over to where medics were cooing over Paul and Mike. They began to raise Paul onto a stretcher and take him outside, while others continued to try and stop the blood that was oozing from Mike's chest.

"I can't believe it," One medic said, analyzing the primate. "He took a bullet for Mr. McCartney, this will be such a development-"

"He's not really a monkey," Davy interrupted, "He's my friend, Mike. Mendoza turned them into monkeys, and he turned John Lennon, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr into beetles, too!"

"That's absurd," The medic replied. He glanced over at another medic standing behind him. "Go call the vet's office and have them send over some staff to help this poor creature."

"He's not a creature, he's a person!" Davy retorted, getting upset. This was when Peter and Micky hopped over, grabbing the medic by the shoulders and trying to drag him away to show him Mendoza's lab. They both knew that the next step was to prove that they were originally human, and in order to do that they needed the antidote to the potion Mendoza forced down their throats.

As Micky dragged the medic away, they both could hear Davy calling after them. Peter stopped and urged Micky to go on. Micky did, accidentally leading the medic into the edge of a door frame. Peter hopped over to Davy and smiled what he could of his very Peter-esc smile. He took Davy by the hand and walked him back over to Mike, who had fallen unconscious due to his injuries. Peter pointed at Mike with one hand, letting go of Davy with the other.

" _Micky and I will be alright, stay here with Mike."_ Peter tried to say, but it all came to Davy as a bunch of strange monkey sounds. Davy frowned, not following what Peter was saying. So, Peter took Davy's hand again and gently placed it on Mike's head. Slowly letting go, he held up his hands to signal that he had to stay there. With another smile Peter ran off to join Micky, for he had a Beatle on his head that needed to be changed back into a human.


	11. Chapter 11- Drinks for All

Chapter 11-Drinks for All

" _Wakie, wakie, Monkees." Mendoza's voice scratched at the inside of Micky's brain like nails on a chalkboard. Annoyed, he slowly opened his eyes, finding himself down in the very lab in which he and his friends lost their musical abilities during their last visit._

" _Dr. Mendoza?" Micky asked, looking up at the mad scientist. "W-what's going on?" Micky quickly realized he was tied to a chair very firmly and that next to him was Mike and Peter, both slowly waking up._

" _Revenge, that's what, Mr. Dolenz." Mendoza sneered. He walked behind a counter, which revealed to Micky that John, George, and Ringo were tied up as well, all three horrifically awake._

" _Micky, what the bloody hell is going on?" John hissed._

" _How'd we get here?" George asked._

" _Who is that crazy old koot?" Ringo added._

" _Silence!" Mendoza bellowed, stirring a red concoction inside a beaker. Once satisfied, he poured the solution into six shot glasses that were all lined up on the counter. "Now, you all may be wondering why you're here."_

" _Uh, could you wait a moment, I don't think Mike and Peter are fully awake yet," Micky joked, kicking Mike in the leg the best he could._

" _Not now, I'm sleepin' here." Mike grumbled, his head drooping in front of him._

" _Mr. Nesmith, I'd recommend you wake up now. This next bit is quite important to your well-being, if I do say so myself." Mendoza smiled, picking up an eyedropper and poking it into another beaker which contained a bubbly blue liquid. He trapped a small portion of the liquid in the eyedropper and carefully hovered the eyedropper over a shot glass. He squeezed one drop into the glass, causing the previously red concoction to dissolve into a purple ooze. He proceeded to do the same with the next two glasses. Satisfied with the result, Mendoza replaced the eyedropper into the beaker with the blue liquid and picked up a clean eyedropper. He proceeded to put a bright green liquid into the remaining three glasses. This time the green liquid dominated the glass. Proudly he popped the eyedropper into the beaker with the green liquid and looked up at his audience. He noticed that everyone was now wide awake and watching his actions in horror. With a menacing smile, Mendoza snatched up a purple shot glass and elegantly walked over to where the Beatles sat, waiting for their demise._

" _You're not going to get away with this!" John yelled proudly to hide his fear._

" _John," George warned. "Now is not the time to play the hero."_

" _Quite right, too." Mendoza laughed. "Open wide, Lennon."_

 _Realizing that Mendoza was about to dump the unknown liquid down his throat, John clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. Mendoza rolled his eyes and kicked John in the shin, causing him to gasp in pain. Mendoza quickly moved behind him and yanked his head back by his hair, causing the Beatle to scream. Mendoza proudly turned the glass over, causing the purple ooze to fall into John's mouth. Once all of the concoction had made its way into the victim's mouth, Mendoza let go of John's head. John recoiled straight and made a sour face._

" _This goo is disgusting! Blah!" John complained. "It tastes like-"_

" _Like what, John?" Ringo asked. However, John couldn't reply. John's mouth moved, but nothing came out. His eyes widened at the realization that his voice was gone. The five remaining musicians watch in horror as John panicked in his chair._

 _Then he started to glow._

" _Uh oh," George commented. "That's not supposed to happen."_

" _Ooo," Mendoza laughed. "Quite interesting, if I do say so myself."_

" _John, don't panic, we'll figure something out!" Micky tried to reassure the Beatle. However, by the time John processed Micky's words, the glowing light around him was blinding. Everyone shut their eyes. When their eyes opened, none of them could believe what they saw._

" _It worked! My potion worked!" Mendoza cheered happily, plucking the fidgety insect from the chair._

" _You- you turned him into a beetle!" Peter gulped._

" _Precisely my intentions, Mr. Tork! How exciting!" Mendoza grabbed a clean, stray jar and dropped John inside. "Let's see what happens when I try it on a Monkee…"_

" _Oh no way, Mendoza!" Mike yelled. Micky and Peter clamped their mouths shut to support Mike's disapproval._

" _I think you should do what he says," George said, defeated. "You saw what just happened to John."_

" _I'm not going to be turned into a bug, Mendoza, so you can just forget about it and turn John back!" Mike snapped. "There's got to be an antidote for this!"_

" _Oh, yes, the antidote. Thank you for reminding me about that, Nesmith. Too bad I haven't tested it yet. Though, I don't think I really want to test it." Mendoza showed the group a tall bottle of some clear liquid, the words '_ Anti-Animal' _written on the side. He quickly hid it and grabbed one of the green shot glasses. "Your turn Nesmith…"_

* * *

Davy sat outside the castle now, waiting for this night to end. Mendoza had been taken to the hospital, as well as Paul. They had called in veterinarians to assist with his friends. They had insisted that Davy wait outside till they could get everything situated for the night. They had called Norm and Shake and Davy assumed the two of them would meet the rest of the Beatles at the hospital. For a half hour Davy sat, alone with his thoughts. The doctors had already bandaged up all of Davy's minor wounds, so it was just a waiting game.

The giant doors to the castle creaked open, revealing one human-like figure. Davy sprang to his feet and ran up to him.

"Peter!"

"Davy!" Peter smiled, clad in his orange pajamas. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? Are _you_ okay? I mean, you were a literal monkey last I saw you!" Davy exclaimed, looking the man up and down.

"I'm always a Monkee, Davy." Peter smiled. "Micky tested the antidote on my to see if it worked. It took us a good 10 minutes to find the lab where the antidote was. Transformation back, Micky said, took fifteen minutes."

"I've been sitting here for a good half hour, maybe more! What about the other five?" Davy asked, leading Peter to the ambulances and doctors.

"Me finding my way out of that place," Peter shrugged. "I sure hope the others make it out okay." A doctor told Peter to get into an ambulance so he could give him a check up. Peter did as he was told, and disappeared into the ambulance with the doctor. Davy sighed and returned to his seat on a small wall by the front doors, waiting for more of his friends to emerge from the castle.

The next people to emerge did not give Davy any comfort. Out of the castle came a bunch of men Davy recognized as the veterinarians who entered the castle before. What he saw in their arms made him feel sick. They all rushed to one of the spare ambulances and banged on the door. Davy kept his distance, but listened to their conversation with the medics inside.

"We need to get this poor guy to our office, stat!" Said the veterinarian holding the black, bleeding monkey.

"Can't you take him in one of your cars?" A medic said. "We need to reserve this vehicle for one of the _human_ victims."

"Have you been blind as to what's been going on here?" Another veterinarian yelled. "All of the _human_ victims had been turned into animals! This monkey is supposed to be human! Now we can't change him back if we don't save him first! Let us in!

"I can't unless I get permission from my superior," the medic said again.

"Freddie, just let them in," The other medic sighed.

"I'm not breaking code again!" The medic named Freddie growled.

The other medic sighed. He got up and pushed Freddie out of the ambulance. "Get in, quick," He said as he jumped out of the ambulance and pounced on Freddie to make sure he didn't stop the veterinarians. The veterinarians got in with Mike and shut the doors behind him. The ambulance drove away into the night, leaving the two brawling medics to be separated by other medics.

"I can't believe this…" Davy muttered to himself. Suddenly, he saw the doors to one of the remaining ambulances opened to reveal Peter and the doctor who treated him. They both walked over to Davy.

"Here's what's going on, Mr. Jones," The doctor said once they reached him. "When the rest of the men are changed back, we'll take them all in one trip down to the hospital. Feel free to hop into an ambulance and come along for the ride. We want to do some tests to see what happened to them and to make sure they're going to have a full and proper recovery." Davy nodded, though not completely paying attention. Davy was beginning to come to terms that he was extremely tired.

The doctor dismissed himself and left Peter with Davy. Peter took a seat next to Davy on the wall, the two of them now waiting for their friends to emerge from the castle.


	12. Chapter 12- A Thousand Times Over

Chapter 12: A Thousand Times Over

"Well men," the doctor, Dr. Capaldi, said. "Everything seems to be where it needs to be. All of your organs have relocated to their proper spots, and nothing seems to be the matter with any of you." The eight men sitting in front of him all let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. "However, if any of you see anything suspicious about anyone's well being, please be sure to bring them right back here to me."

"As well as that," said the policeman standing next to Dr. Capaldi, "Anything that happens to you that is connected to this case needs to be reported to us at the station." Officer Braddock scratched his head. "Once Mendoza is released from this hospital, he will instantly be put under our supervision. Then we can begin questioning him. We thank you all for your confessions, and we will need all of you to be present at the trail."

"Trial?" Norm frowned. "My boys are needed back in England next week!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we need them here to testify against Dr. Mendoza." Officer Braddock said.

"You've got three young men who _live here_ that can easily testify for you! Besides, I don't want this kind of thing known to the public. It would ruin their image!" Norm fought back.

"Norm, cool it," George said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "It's fine. We're okay with that."

"I'm not!" Norm spat, "This entire thing has ruined everything! Our schedule, your music, it's even set back _history._ You four are the most famous band in history, and this little catastrophe will have your heads, your _fame."_

"Just relax, Norm," John snapped. "The only people who are going to know about this are the professionals and the jury, right officer?"

"Right. We wouldn't do anything to try and put you off, sir." Officer Braddock smiled.

"Right now the only thing putting the four of you back is Mr. McCartney's condition," Dr. Capaldi added.

"Yeah, don't worry," Micky added. "The six of you will be back in England before you know it!"

"They're right, Norm," Shake finally said. "We can't change what happened, there's no reason to be upset."

Norm huffed at his colleague's comment and folded his arms. "Fine." He grumbled.

Another nurse came into the room, asking for Dr. Capaldi's attention for a minute. Dr. Capaldi excused himself and left with the nurse, leaving the officer with the eight men. "I thank you all for your cooperation. I will contact you if I need anything. Good day," Officer Braddock tipped his cap and left the men in the waiting room of the hospital.

Dr. Capaldi quickly reappeared. "I have some news for all of you. Mr. McCartney has regained consciousness. I'm about to go check in on him now, as for you three," Dr. Capaldi turned to the three Monkees, "I just got a call from the veterinarian's office. Mr. Nesmith has made it through surgery and is on the road to recovery. He just came to a few minutes ago. We still do not want to give him the antidote until he has completely recovered, but at this point at least we know he will make it."

"Thanks Doc," Micky smiled and turned his attention to his band mates. "Think we should go visit him now?"

"I don't see why not." Peter replied. "I mean, he's probably having a fit because he's still a monkey."'

"Right," Micky said, beginning to walk towards the front doors of the hospital. "Give Paul our best wishes, we hope to visit sometime soon." Peter and Davy followed, waving their goodbyes to the Beatles.

"Will do, same to Mike from us!" John bellowed, turning towards the double doors where Dr. Capaldi stood, waiting to take them down to Paul's room.

* * *

"I don't know about this, guys." Davy muttered as they all got out of the MonkeeMobile at the veterinarian's' office.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked.

"I mean…" Davy felt himself shrink. "It won't…"

"What, Davy?" Micky poked. "Something is wrong, obviously."

"Yes, yes there is. Mike's an animal, that's what's wrong." Davy grumbled. He leaned against the MonkeeMobile. "I- I have to confess…"

"Confess…?" Micky asked, hoping his tone of voice would urge the Englishman to finish his sentences properly.

"When I was in the castle, with Paul and Mendoza. The monkeys…"

"What about us?" Peter asked. Not sure where this was going.

"It didn't…" Davy continued. In the moment, when everything was happening so fast, Davy didn't have enough time to even process this. However, now that everything was slowing down, everything was comprehensible, he just couldn't handle it. "It didn't feel like they were you three. It felt like you guys were still missing, and with a stroke of luck, Paul and I were being helped by three monkeys."

"It was us, Davy." Micky reassured, leaning against the car next to the Englishman.

"I know it was you, I consciously knew it was you. I just couldn't believe it." Davy frowned. "I knew the facts, but I just didn't believe them. Though in the moment, with everything happening so quickly, I didn't have time to recognize that I didn't believe it."

"But now you do." Peter concluded. The three men fell silent for a moment. Davy took a deep breath and stood up straight.

"I know Mike is in there," he pointed to the veterinarian's office. "That's a fact. I just… don't believe he is in there. I won't believe it till I see him human again. When he's like this, it's like he's not really him. He's not a monkey..."

"He's a Monkee with two e's." Micky finished.

"Right," Davy nodded.

"You don't have to go in, you know." Peter said, placing a hand on Davy's shoulder. "Micky and I can go by ourselves. We'll tell Mike that you're back at the pad, sleeping."

"Right, I'm sure he'll believe it." Micky gave a curious smile. "I mean, it's not like you haven't been up all night long battling an evil scientist and his assistant _with_ Paul McCartney."

Davy chuckled. When Peter said sleeping, a rush of fatigue overcame the boy. He really _was_ tired, and Micky was right. He had just been battling Dr. Mendoza and Groot all night long. "You know, I might actually do that."

"What?" Micky asked, as though the conversation never happened.

"Sleep. I'll lie down in the back seat at sleep." Davy let out a large yawn.

"Good idea," Micky said, patting him on the back. Peter and Micky moved away from the car as Davy opened the back door. "Are you going to be alright?"

"I think so." Davy yawned again. "The faster Mike heals, the better."

"Right," Micky said, he and Peter slowly moving towards the veterinarian's office. "We'll see you in a little while." The two waved as Davy slammed the door shut to the car, dozing off into a wondrous sleep.

* * *

 _Davy was somewhat aware that he was in the pad. He walked down the spiral staircase, not really anticipating anything. He placed himself at the table, where a box of cereal and a milk carton sat, complimented by a bowl and spoon. Unconsciously, he picked up the box and spilled the pale cereal into the bowl. Once he set the box down, he heard a voice._

" _Good morning, Davy." It was Mike. Davy frowned. He knew it was Mike, yet he could only tell because of the green wool hat on top of his head. His face was a blur, and so was his torso._

" _Good morning, Mike." Davy replied, reaching for the milk._

" _Where's Micky and Peter this morning?" Mike asked, opening up a black and grey newspaper._

" _They went the vet's office." Davy replied, looking down at his cereal now. The conversation continued._

" _Ah, yes, I forgot about that." Mike said, as if he knew why they left. "What time do you think they'll be back?"_

" _I don't know," Davy said through a mouth full of cereal. "Noon?"_

" _I hope so." Mike said, flipping a page of the newspaper._

 _Suddenly the front door swung upon, revealing the hyper drummer, panting and panting._

" _Micky?" Davy asked, standing._

" _RUN!" Micky huffed, running in after he caught his breath, grabbing Davy by the arm and pulling him from the pad._

" _What's going on?" Davy demanded as he and Micky ran out of the pad and onto the beach._

" _The animals, they're taking over the world!" Micky yelled, pulling Davy this way and that._

 _Davy did not question the fact that animals were taking over the world. Instead, he inquired, "Where's Peter?"_

" _They turned him into an animal!" Micky bellowed, continuing to run. "We have to get out of here!"_

 _Davy turned his head to see if they were being followed. After looking back and forth a few times, he tugged on Micky, causing them both to fall into the sand. Davy stood, brushing himself off. "Micky, no one is following us!"_

 _Micky bounced up, looking wide-eyed beyond Davy. "You don't see it?" Micky pointed behind him. Davy looked back, still seeing nothing behind him._

" _There is nothing there!" Davy yelled at him. Micky, still scared stiff, began to walk backwards._

" _We have to leave, now!" Micky said, grabbing Davy's hand again. Davy pulled away._

" _Calm down, Mick. There is nothing-" Micky forced Davy's body to turn around. That's when Davy finally saw it. Coming quickly upon them was a stampede of various animals, all of which looked extremely upset. "Oh dear…" Davy gulped. They both broke out into a run, Davy catching up with Micky easily, almost surpassing him._

" _D-a-v-y!" An unfamiliar voice called out. "M-i-c-k-y!"_

" _D-a-v-y!" Another voice called out. "M-i-c-k-y!"_

" _Oh no," Micky yelled. "It's Peter! He got Mike!"_

" _WHAT?" Davy yelled, tripping over his feet, falling into the sand._

" _Davy!" Micky yelled, slowing down and turning around._

" _Micky, keep going!" Davy yelled, trying to get back up. He felt his body begin to vibrate and the shadows of lions, giraffes, elephants, monkeys, and other animals came over him. Davy screamed._


	13. Chapter 13- Reboot

Chapter 13- Reboot

"I thought you said he was awake!"

"I did. He _does_ have a concussion, Mr. Lennon. He may have fallen back to sleep in between now and the last time a nurse checked on him."

"John, don't wake him up."

"I won't Norm, don't worry."

"Your talking is going to wake him, John, can't you talk softer?"

"Do you really think he can, George?"

"I don't know, maybe?"

Paul kept his eyes shut, somewhat amused at the bickering between friends. The charade that he was asleep was peaceful. No one was bothering him and he finally had the chance to properly rest. True, his head hurt like he had a thousand weights on his head, but the comforting sheets and pillows around him soothed the pain somewhat. He listened on as John continued to run his mouth and annoy not only Norm, but everyone else in the room as well.

"George, I thought you knew me better."

"Mr. Lennon, if you could please keep your voice down, Mr. McCartney is not the only patient within hearing range of your voice."

"Then they should be honored to hear it."

"Frankly, I'm surprised Paul hasn't woken up yet to John's yelling."

Paul couldn't help but smile. "Actually," he said softly. "I've been awake this entire time." Paul slowly opened his eyes, but closed them again due to the bright light of the room. "I could hear John from down the hall." Paul tried to open his eyes again, this time succeeding in adjusting to the light. He could see John, George, and Ringo standing on one side of the bed, Norm and Shake at the foot, and the doctor on the other side. Once everyone came into focus, a surge of pain shot through his skull. He groaned, his hands retreating to his head.

"Take it easy, Mr. McCartney," said the doctor. "You have a concussion and need rest."

"A concussion? What happened?"

"What do you remember?" Was the reply of the doctor.

"I… I'm not sure," Paul was suddenly completely baffled by the sheer lack of knowledge he had. What had happened to him? Did he get drunk and do something stupid again? Did he have to fish John out of a violent situation? What happened? "We were out at a club, I think… I don't remember much else after that, besides the trippy dream I just had." Paul shut his eyes, trying to remember. "How did I get a concussion?"

"Your head made contact with a hardwood floor," the doctor said.

"Hard," John added.

"How? Did I slip and fall or something?" Paul looked to see the doctor offering him a cup of water. He took it and took a sip from it.

"What's that dream you said you had?" George asked, clearly being the only one catching on to Paul's mental condition.

"What does that have to do with it?" Paul asked.

"Answer the question, Mr. McCartney," the doctor ordered, catching on to the method of George's madness.

"Well," Paul began, trying to find out where to start first. "The three of you had been turned into bugs, and this mad scientist was threatening me to perform solo. If I didn't, he would kill you guys. Then there was a lot of fighting…"

"And a Monkee saved your life." George finished.

"A monkey?"

"You don't remember the Monkees?" Ringo asked.

It took Paul a second, but then suddenly a light bulb went off in his head. "The Monkees!" Reality settled in. "Wait… that whole thing actually happened? You three were bugs?"

John openly shivered. "I solemnly swear to never climb up a henchman's leg ever again. That was disgusting, utterly disgusting."

"The whole experience was," Ringo voiced his opinion. "When you found us, we had no clue how to get you to figure out it was us."

"Luckily the Monkees took care of that," George added.

"The Monkees," Paul said, wrapping his head around all of this. "How are they? Are they alright, I mean?"

"Micky, Peter, and Davy are fine," John said. "Mike on the other hand…"

"You'd probably be dead if it wasn't for him," George finished. "We were told he took a bullet for you. He jumped on you to help you dodge the bullet."

"He was shot?" Paul asked, trying to recall the memory.

"Or so we're told by the police, Micky, and Peter." George continued. "They had a better view than we did. We were a bit too small to see over the hair of their heads."

"However, Mr. Nesmith is going to be okay," the doctor added. "The veterinarians are going to make sure he has a full recovery, then we can use the antidote to fix up his physical anatomy."

"So he's still a monkey?" Paul asked.

"I think he'll always be a Monkee, Paul," Ringo said.

"At the moment, he's just an actual monkey. With an e-y instead of an e-e." John finished.

"Right…" Paul let out a deep breath. "Man, I can't believe that actually happened."

"Believe it," John said, giving Paul a small punch in the arm.

"Right," the doctor said. "Can I ask you five to please leave now, so Mr. McCartney can get some proper rest?"

With a few outbursts from John, everyone left the hospital room so Paul could heal. When the door shut behind Shake, Paul took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pondered everything that happened within the last 24 hours.

* * *

 _Paul opened his eyes to see a bright blue sky. White, fluffy clouds rolled by. The sound of birds chirping in the distance brought Paul to peace. He smiled to himself as a gentle breeze blew past him. Grass tickled at his bare feet and arms while dirt cushioned his head and body. Suddenly, there was a distressed yell from far away. Mistaking it as nothing, Paul continued to rest. He heard it again. This time, he sat up, trying to find the source of trouble. He saw nothing. He dismissed it as his imagination and laid himself down in the grass again. He heard the sound again. This time it was clear and prominent against the sounds of nature._

 _"RUN!" Was the cry of a familiar voice._

 _"Davy?" Paul asked, looking around for his new friend._

 _"Paul, run!" Davy's voice called again. Paul jumped to his feet, finally seeing the frantic singer running towards him._

 _"Davy, what's wrong?" Paul asked._

 _"RUN!" Davy repeated, grabbing Paul's arm on the way past. "They're coming for us!"_

 _"Who is?" Paul asked, not-so-willingly following Davy._

 _"The fellas! Our band members! He's done it again!" Davy cried. Paul looked behind him, now seeing the cause of Davy's_ _panic. Behind them were three human-sized monkeys, and three larger-than-life beetles. Paul quickened his pace, catching up with Davy easily now._

 _"What's happened to them?" Paul asked._

 _"The antidote didn't work. If anything, it made it worse!" Davy yelled. "Keep running!"_

 _The two musicians ran, ran faster than they ever could in their dreams. Eventually, and to Paul's horror, Davy tripped over a rock, flying face first into the grass._

 _"Davy!" Paul called, trying to help Davy up._

 _"Go on, Paul! Save yourself!" Davy cried out. "My leg's broken! They'll get me for sure. Run! I'll give you time."_

 _"Davy, I can't just leave you here!"_

 _"GO!" Davy yelled, pushing Paul the best he could. "Go, before they catch you, too!"_

 _Paul ran. He glimpsed over his shoulder to see the giant beetles and monkeys caving in on the poor percussionist, eating him alive. No, they weren't eating him. The terrifying creatures backed up to reveal that they too had turned Davy into a monkey. At the sight, Paul ran faster. He was next._


	14. Chapter14-If I Ever Get to Saginaw Again

Chapter 14- If I Ever Get to Saginaw Again

"Davy?" Peter asked. The Englishman jumped awake, his heart racing. "Davy, are you okay?"

"Huh?" Was all he could say. He was in the back seat of the MonkeeMobile, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"You were yelling in your sleep," Peter stated. He was sitting in the driver's seat, a stray guitar pick in hand. "Bad dream?"

Davy ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you could say that. What are you doing out here?"

"They won't let us into Mike's room," Peter sighed. "Mike doesn't want to see anyone till he's at least _human_ again. So Micky sent me out here to grab Mike's guitar. He's determined he won't go without some form of interaction between him and Mike."

"So what's he gonna do with Mike's guitar?" Davy asked. "Mike hates it when anyone plays his guitar."

"I know, and I'm the unlucky person who Micky is making _play_ Mike's guitar. He wants to sing to Mike," Peter sighed. "Do you want to come with? I'm sure Micky would appreciate it. I mean, it looks like we won't be seeing Mike anytime soon."

"And for that, I'm grateful," Davy said with a load of guilt. Davy slid out of the car as Peter took Mike's guitar from its case. The two of them walked back into the veterinary office, worrying.

"Are the doctors okay with this?" Davy asked as Peter was given clearance to go back to Mike's room. The entire building was green. Pine green walls, light green tiles, dark green doors. Paintings and photographs of animals and scenery hung on the walls of the hallway, giving the hospital a nature feel to it. Davy silently wondered why human hospitals were never painted this way. It would certainly help patients feel less scared of being cut open in surgery or keep them at peace while they recover.

"Yeah, after Micky begged and pleaded for five minutes. If we get any of the animals howling, though, we'll be kicked out." Peter answered, rolling his eyes at the memory of Micky on his knees, begging to sing for his poor monkey friend.

They found Micky sitting with his back against a dark green door. He was already tapping out a rhythm with two drumsticks. He looked up to see Peter and Davy. "Hey guys!" Micky cheered. "You're finally back. Nice to see you, Davy. Did you have a nice nap?"

"Not at all," Davy admitted, scratching his head.

"Well, this should cheer you up," Micky proclaimed. "Peter on one side, Davy on the other. We'll start off with 'If I Ever Get to Saginaw Again.'"

"But that's Mike's song!" Davy protested.

"Exactly," Micky beamed.

"Who's going to sing that one, then?" Davy said, slightly upset.

"You are," Micky smiled again.

"Me?" Davy almost yelled. "You must be joking! Why me?"

"I was counting on you coming back with Peter, that's why." Micky smiled again. "It will certainly get Mike's attention."

"If he hasn't already heard us through the door," Peter deadpanned.

"Shush yourself, Peter." Micky insisted. "Ready Davy?"

"I don't know the words!" Davy protested.

"Here," Peter rolled his eyes at Micky's evil smile as Peter handed Davy a lined sheet of paper with the words on it. It was Mike's draft of 'If I Ever Get to Saginaw Again.' Davy reluctantly took the paper and looked it over.

"Ready?" Micky asked eagerly.

"I guess," Davy said, giving into Micky's plot. Peter began strumming out the introduction and Davy began to sing. "If I ever get to Saginaw again, a local that's somewhat off the beaten track. Get to see the girl I never saw again. Who must know why I have never ventured back. We we young, and so alive. And now I wonder if she'd cling to me, become my very own as she did then, if I ever get to Saginaw again."

The three Monkees melted into the song. They were not aware of the veterinarians who stopped to watch or the animals who magically appeared around them, listening as well. Even owners were trying to catch a glimpse of the musicians sitting against the door of a fallen soldier. Quickly, Davy no longer needed the sheet of paper. He sang with his eyes closed, falling for his own voice.

"If I ever get to Saginaw again, it won't be in Spring with meadows turning green. It won't be to tangle with the law again. And it won't be with someone one only seventeen, who gave her love, and made me hers. And when you find the one you're dreaming of, who thinks to ask, "How old is love?" Not "when" you may never get to Saginaw again."

Suddenly there was a loud bang that came from the other side of the door, causing all three Monkees to jump forward, falling into a pile. The music stopped with such abruptness that the audience seemed annoyed that an animal could interrupt such bliss. One of the veterinarians ran up to the boys, helping them up. Micky and Peter knew this was one of Mike's nurses. She insisted she would check up on him. She slipped into the room, leaving the Monkees stunned into silence. Their audience didn't move, intrigued as to what stopped the musicians. The nurse stepped out again, a frown on her face.

"He knocked his cage off the table because everything else he was throwing didn't reach the door. He also wrote you guys this note." She handed Davy the note. Everyone was expecting him to read it out loud.

"Will you three knock it off?" Davy read out loud. "I'll recover in due time, go home. And tell Peter to stop playing my baby." Everyone noticed Peter blush. He knew he was going to get in trouble, and he was right.

Micky frowned, annoyed at Mike's insistence of solitude. Suddenly, he turned towards the door. He banged his fist on it and shouted, "Listen here, Nesmith! You may not like it, but we're going to come visit you everyday till you're better! We're abiding by your wish to not see you, but that doesn't mean we won't come!" Not sure what else to say, Micky backed away from the door and stormed out, leaving everyone frozen in place.

Peter walked up to Mike's nurse and apologized. "We didn't mean to cause any disturbance. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"You three are okay," Mike's nurse replied. "I understand your good intentions. Come on in whenever you feel it best, and I can always stay in with Mike to make sure he doesn't throw a fit. However, I think it would be in your best interests to limit yourself to a song a day. Come sing and leave. None of us want Mike ripping stitches over this silly thing."

"Then why not tell us not to come?" Davy inquired.

"I have a minor in psychology," Mike's nurse explained. "Whether he thinks it's good or not, your guy's attendance is important to his health."

"At least you're on our side," Peter shrugged, throwing the guitar over his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Mike's nurse smiled. "You guys are really great musicians."

"Thank you," Davy said. He and Peter left the veterinary office, somewhat stunned at everything that happened within the last ten minutes. When they got out to the MonkeeMobile, Micky was silently fuming in the passenger seat. Peter took up the driver's seat after putting Mike's guitar away and Davy took the back seat, lying flat as he did before his nap. Peter explained to Micky the compromise that was made with Mike's nurse, but Micky was still mad. Without another word, the three Monkees drove home, taking into consideration everything that has happened within the last forty-eight hours.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: There is a wonderful version of 'If I Ever Get to Saginaw Again,' sung by Davy on YouTube. Please look it up. You won't regret it. I also do not own the Monkees, the Beatles from 'A Hard Day's Night,' and I don't own any songs by them._**


	15. Chapter 15- Almost

Chapter 15- Almost

"I wanna be free, like the bluebirds flying by me..."

"Sometime in the morning, a simple thought may occur to you…"

"When the world and I were young, just yesterday. Life was such a simple game, a child could play…"

"A distant night bird mocks the sun…"

"I can tell by your face, that you're looking to find a place…"

This is how the weeks went by. Everyday, Micky, Peter, and Davy would go to the veterinary office to visit Mike. They would sing their song and then leave, as instructed to on that first day. Since the Beatles were still confined to California till Mike was well enough to testify in court, they went with them, watching the performance in awe with the rest of the staff. When Paul recovered, he joined them. Both bands sang a song before leaving, waiting in anticipation for the next day. All seven of them hoped that with every new day, Mike's nurse, whose name was Linda, would tell them that Mike was going to be transformed back into a human.

"I've just seen a face, I can't forget the time or place where we've just met…"

"You never know how much I really love you, you'll never know how much I really care…"

"Here I stand, head in hand. Turned my face to the wall…"

"They're gonna put me in the movies. They're gonna make a big star out of me…"

It was a hot muggy day, the day that the Monkees and the Beatles found out that Mike would become a man again. The day prior, after singing their usual tunes, Linda had told them to visit Mike at the hospital instead of the veterinary office. The next day, the Monkees showed up to the hospital in their beach attire and the Beatles in some recently bought beach attire. They all walked into the lobby, the Monkees trying to keep their cool. Micky stepped up to the front desk and asked the quite attractive nurse behind the desk if they could go see Mike. The nurse gave him a look before searching her files for 'Michael Nesmith.' Once she found him, she stood and said sternly, "Only three may visit at a time. The rest of you will need to stay out here."

"We'll wait," Paul said. "You three go on ahead." The Beatles knew that Mike's recovery was more important to the three Monkees than it was to them. They each sat down in a chair, an end table full of magazines to separate John and Paul from George and Ringo. They smiled at the three men, urging them to go on with the nurse. The Monkees smiled back and followed the nurse into the endless halls of the hospital.

When they reached the room, each Monkee was literally bouncing with excitement. It had been so long since they had seen Mike's face. It had been so long since they were a whole. A aging man in a lab coat walked up to the Monkees. The Monkees recognized him as Paul's doctor, Dr. Capaldi. He greeted the boys warmly, shaking their hands.

"Last night was a success, I must tell you," Dr. Capaldi smiled. "Mike's in here, though I can't imagine he'll be awake quite yet. You see, what we originally feared did in fact happen, but not to the extreme that we expected. His exterior wound opened up again when he changed back, but there wasn't a lot of damage inside. I'd say that he needs to stay here for about a week more, but then he can go home. If we had tried to change him back when we changed the rest of you, his wounds would have become larger than they were and they could have possibly killed him. I hope another week won't be too much of a burden on you three."

"Hey, at least he's human. That's all we care about," Davy said.

"Yeah, now I can give him a real fight on what he did to us back at the-" Micky began, cracking his knuckles.

Peter put a hand on Micky's shoulder. "No Micky."

"Sorry," Micky said, dropping his hands and facing the floor.

"Anyway," Dr. Capaldi continued. "We've got him pretty drugged up right now. We don't want him moving for the sake of releasing any unnecessary blood. We've got him patched up, he just needs to heal. So don't you three go on and get him riled up." Dr. Capaldi, Davy, and Peter all gave Micky a glare for reassurance.

Dr. Capaldi knocked on the door and opened it, peering in first to see what was inside. He then opened the door the rest of the way, letting the three Monkees into the room. After Peter entered, Dr. Capaldi entered himself and shut the door behind him. The Monkees held their breath, afraid to disturb the peace.

There he was, pale and asleep. His raven hair was pushed away from his eyes, though some of it bounced back to its normal spot. His long, hairy arms laid inert at his side, an IV poking into one of them. They all could see the slow movement of his chest, it lifting the blanket and his blue gown up and down. Every once in awhile his eyes would twitch, and his face would turn into a scowl. A bad dream, they all assumed.

"I think I'll leave you three to it, then. Don't get him excited, remember," Dr. Capaldi whispered, beginning his leave. "I need to check on other patients. I'll be back in a little while." Dr. Capaldi left, leaving the four Monkees alone.

Davy was the first to approach the bed. It didn't feel real. None of them had seen Mike, truly seen Mike, since the night Mike, Micky, and Peter were kidnapped. It was as if Mike had gone on a vacation and he just returned. The heartbreak they all felt, though, seeing him for the first time in this state. Davy took a deep breath before speaking.

"Mike?" Micky and Peter both stepped forward, behind Davy. They each took their turn to say his name, but a response was not given to any of them. After a moment, Micky eyed down the only available chair in the room. He sat down in it, claiming it as his seat. Peter sat himself down on the foot of Mike's bed, and Davy continued to linger, not sure what to do with himself. The silence strangled the three men. None of them were sure what to do, not wanting to wake their recovering friend.

"Sometime in the morning, a simple thought may occur to you. And you hold her, and tell her all the things you never told her," Micky began to sing softly. "Your love has shown me things, I never thought I could see; I didn't know it could be done so easily. Now I know, you're where it is for me."

Davy quickly picked up the next verse, throwing Micky off. "Sometime in the evening, you're sitting there by the fireside. And she'll touch you. And you'll realize how much you never knew before, how much you couldn't see. You didn't know it could be done so easily. Now you know, she's all a girl could be."

Peter took on the next verse. "Now in her childlike eyes, you see the beauty there. You know it was always there. And you need no longer wear a disguise."

"Sometime in the morning, you'll just reach out and she will be there, close as the summer air. Sometime in the morning she will be there…" All three Monkees sang. When the end of the song tapered off, they all looked to Mike to see if there was any reaction from the sleeping man. As one would assume, there wasn't. All they got was the slow and responsive rhythm of his breathing.

"Well," Micky said quietly. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," Davy replied. They all waited a moment, anticipating a snarky comeback from the unconscious musician, hoping that he was listening in the whole time. No such thing occurred.

"I think we should stay here a few more minutes," Peter suggested. "He looks like he may be having a nightmare. Someone should be here when he wakes up."

The Monkees nodded in agreement. They would stay till Mike woke up.


	16. Chapter 16- Dreams are for Dreamers

Chapter 16- Dreams are for Dreamers

The cage bars towered over him like never ending trees. Compared to the cage, Mike felt puny. Beyond the iron bars were the piercing white counters and light blue walls of his hospital room. On one wall, there was a mirror. Looking into the mirror, Mike saw his human self imprisoned behind the solid bars. He saw himself wearing a black and white uniform, commonly found on criminals in movies. On his head, a black wool hat kept the hair out of his eyes, four white buttons making the hat stick out from his raven black hair. He could feel the worry of his own eyes reflecting back on him from the mirror.

Suddenly, there was a loud clang from behind him. Mike spun around, coming face to face with Micky, only he was about one hundred times bigger than Mike. "Awe, look at him, guys!" Micky bellowed.

"That poor thing," Davy's voice said from behind him. Mike spun around, seeing the giant face of Davy behind him. "He's scared."

"No duh," Micky replied back. Their voices were so loud, Mike couldn't hear himself think.

"Would they let us take him out?" Peter's voice now joined in. Mike looked to find Peter on the side between Davy and Micky.

"I don't see why not," Davy yelled.

"Guys? What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mike screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Awe, look, he's trying to communicate!" Peter laughed.

"Hey! Take me seriously when I'm talking to you!" Mike yelled.

"I think he's angry," Davy observed.

"He's cute when he's angry," Peter laughed.

"Watch what you say guys, he might be a monkey, but I think he still understands English," Micky said, swinging the jail doors open after picking the lock.

"I'm not a monkey!" Mike screamed, but his statement was not heard. Micky stuck a hand inside the cage, swooping Mike off his feet and into the palm of the drummer's free hand.

Mike grabbed onto Micky's thumb for dear life as Micky swung the door shut with his other hand. "Micky!" Mike screamed, "Put me down!"

"He's so small," Davy observed. Peter and Davy joined Micky, all hovering over him again.

"Hey Mike, stand up and show us how tall you are," Micky laughed at the joke.

"I will not give you three the satisfaction of replying to that joke," Mike growled.

"I think that's monkey talk for, 'I am standing up,'" Micky said.

"I guess we'll never know," Davy shrugged.

"Will you guys-" Mike began. There was a loud crash and Mike could feel the ground, or Micky's hand to be precise, quake and suddenly Mike could feel himself falling. Falling off of Micky's hand.

* * *

"AH!" Mike screamed, spontaneously sitting up straight.

"AH!" Everyone else screamed, startled by the Monkee's outburst.

"Mike!" John exclaimed, "You're up!"

Mike shook his head, trying to focus. "Sorry? Um, what?"

"You've been asleep for a day now," George explained. "Micky, Peter, and Davy are out getting food with Ringo. We promised them we'd stay and watch you till they got back."

"W-what? I'm sorry, I'm so confused." Mike truly was. How did he get here? He couldn't put a name to the faces that were in the room, but he thought they looked vaguely like the Beatles. It couldn't be. "You said my friends went to get food with who?"

"Ringo," Paul clarified. "As in Ringo Starr."

George cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you know who we are, Mike? I mean, we've only been singing to you for the past month while you recovered in the vet's office."

That's when it hit him. They _were_ the Beatles and they _did_ sing to him, along with his friends, while he was still a monkey. All of the awful memories from the night that started it all came flooding back to him. Mike scrunched his face up. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"I'll go get a nurse," Paul jumped, rushing out of the room.

"Take a deep breath, mate, you'll be fine," George said, getting up and sitting on the bed. He pushed the Monkee back down onto the pillow. "Deep breaths."

Mike did as he was told. His head was spinning, taking in everything. He was trying to accept the fact that everything that happened within the last month _did_ happen; Dr. Mendoza's concoction, the attack on Mendoza and Groot, the weeks of animal treatment, the needles, the x-rays, the awful nights of sleep. It all happened.

Paul returned with a cute nurse who checked up on Mike's chart, then asked Mike if he was feeling nauseous. Mike nodded, not being able to will himself to speak. The nurse scribbled something onto his chart. She declared that she would be back with a new IV bag and left. There was a knock on the door, then the entrance of a man Mike had never seen before.

"Hello Dr. Capaldi," John said when the man came in.

"Hello men," Dr. Capaldi greeted the room. "Ah, Mr. Nesmith, I'm glad to see you've finally come around." The only reply Mike could give without throwing up was the pained and confused look he had in his eyes. "I'm Dr. Capaldi, I've been taking care of you since you arrived the other day so we could change you back into a human. You're not looking too good. Upset stomach?" Mike nodded his head. "I see, well Casey will be back shortly with an IV that should help you with that, along with pain killers. We don't want to risk giving you any physical medications, since your stomach still needs to adjust back to its original size."

"That's why he's sick?" John asked. "I didn't have anything like that when you guys changed me back, and I was smaller than him!"

"You see, Mr. Lennon, he was a monkey longer than you were a beetle, so over the past month his body has adjusted to him being that size and consuming only that much food. Now that he's bigger, his body needs to compensate for lost time. The nausea is from eating the wrong kinds of food in the wrong kinds of doses for the past month, but that's the only food, and only amount of food, they could give him." Dr. Capaldi explained, going over and checking Mike's vitals.

"What kind of food did they give him?" Paul asked. 

"Ah, I'd say fruits, vegetables, yogurt, it's hard to say. I'm not a veterinarian. I just know what came off of his report."

"That's not too bad," George said.

"Yeah, but I think I would get sick too if I had to eat yogurt for a month," John scrunched up his face to show his disgust.

"Anyway," Dr. Capaldi said. "His body is trying to work itself back to normal." At this time the nurse named Casey returned and replaced the IV bag with the new one. "I'll be back to check on you later, Mr. Nesmith."

Mike nodded, still not trusting his mouth at the moment. Dr. Capaldi opened the door to let himself and Casey leave, but when he opened the door, the good doctor stopped and looked out of the doorway, suddenly beckoning the new comers to speak with him in the hall. Casey followed him out, leaving Mike alone with the Beatles again.

"Sounds like your friends are back," Paul observed, hearing Micky's voice from outside. Mike's stomach did a somersault and this time he _did_ throw up. At least he threw up on the floor.

The three Beatles jumped, surprised at the action. "I-I'll got get a nurse, again," Paul stuttered, racing out of the room. Mike groaned, throwing himself back onto a pillow.

"At this rate, you might end up being here longer than a week," John commented, considering Mike's physical state. Mike groaned in response. Paul quickly returned with a different nurse who began cleaning up Mike's mess.

With the appearance of the nurse was also the appearance of Dr. Capaldi's head, who peered in through the door. He looked around the room, nodded, and shut the door again. Mike groaned, "At this rate, John, I might not get out of here alive." John laughed, and Mike cracked a smile, but that's all he was able to do. His entire body just hurt.

The nurse left and Dr. Capaldi popped back in, asking for the Beatles to leave so that the Monkees could enter. John, Paul, and George filed out, and Micky, Peter, and Davy filed in. Mike gave each of his friends a weak smile as they entered. Dr. Capaldi shut the door behind George, leaving the Monkees alone.

"Awe man, you don't look too hot," Micky observed, sitting down in his chair. Mike shook his head. Peter placed himself on the other side of the bed, away from Micky. Davy stood at the foot of the bed.

"Considering the fact that he threw up, I'd say he's not too hot, either." Davy added, "How long have you been up?"

Mike shrugged, "Five minutes, maybe. Hard to tell."

"Awe man," Micky sighed. "You just look awful."

"I feel awful," Mike replied, looking up at the ceiling.

"Hey, we've got some good news for you, if you haven't heard." Peter said, hoping this spark of news will help cheer up his miserable friend. "Our attorney is coming in a few days to get your confession so we can put Mendoza behind bars for good. Also, we've got enough money to pay your medical bills."

"Well," Micky interrupted. "Technically, if we win the case, then your bill is going to be paid right out of Mendoza's bank account. His daughter has been negotiating with the law for a while now, and she's will to pay your bill if her father is sentenced to jail."

"She's going to be charged with assisting in the crime, but won't get as much as her father, from what we've heard," Davy added. "But all of our friends and family has been sending us money to help us out with bills, so we're saving it all till the trial is over so we know what to do with everything."

"Sorry?" Mike asked, getting lost within all the information. "What trial?"

"The trial against Dr. Mendoza," Davy said. "The eight of us are needed to testify that he did indeed turn you lot into animals and bugs. Paul and I've got to testify saying we witnessed that you were all animals. We even turned in the ransom note as proof that we had to be there at a certain time so Mendoza could knock us down as well."

"The four of us are probably going to have to revisit the last time we encountered Mendoza as well, to strengthen our case," Micky added.

Mike wasn't listening. He pulled his hands up to his head and massaged his forehead. "Guys, I'm sorry, but I lost you after animals and bugs. I'm sorry, but I have a killer headache."

"And stomach ache," Micky pointed out, referring to Mike's nausea.

"Maybe you should try and sleep," Davy suggested.

Mike shook his head. "Not right now. I had an awful nightmare earlier and I'm not feelin' up to revisiting that."

"Gosharoony Mike, you're really in the gutter, aren't you?" Micky asked, standing. Peter stood as well.

"Here," he said. "We'll give you some privacy, then. We'll make sure one of us is in here at all times,"

"All times during visiting hours," Davy added.

"Right," Peter continued. "All times during visiting hours. Just in case anything happens."

"I'll take the first shift, if you want me to." Davy offered.

Peter and Micky nodded, beginning their leave. "We'll see you later, Mike," Micky said, opening the door. "Davy, one of us will be back later to relieve you. I'd say in maybe an hour or an hour in a half."

"Sounds good to me," Davy said. Peter and Micky left and shut the door, leaving Mike and Davy alone. Davy placed himself in Micky's chair, grabbing a magazine off the nearby nightstand.

"Davy?" Mike asked, groaning.

"Yes, Mike?"

"Did all of that happen? With Mendoza, I mean. Meeting the Beatles, getting turned into animals, fighting Mendoza, everything?"

"I'm afraid so," Davy sighed. "You've been ripped apart this past month, man. Just relax. We've got everything figured out. You just need to focus on getting better."

Mike nodded. He suddenly felt a wave of fatigue wash over him. His eyelids began to droop, but he refused to let them fall. He had that nightmare way too many times at the veterinary office, he was not willing to relive it again. However, fatigue got the best of him and within minutes, Mike was fast asleep.


	17. Chapter 17- Interrogation

Chapter 17- Interrogation

Davy looked over at their lawyer. It had been a few days since Mike had been changed back, and they all felt it was time to get Mike's confession so that this entire ordeal could be finished forever. Their lawyer was not an old man, he was maybe 34 years old. When looking at him, Davy was reminded of Harper Lee's character, Atticus Finch, from _To Kill a Mockingbird._ He was tall and quiet, but there was something about him that showed compassion, strength, and determination. He wore large glasses with his three-piece suit, and carried his suitcase firmly in his left hand. He cocked an eyebrow at Davy as the Monkee held a hand on the doorknob to Mike's room, but didn't open it. Davy knocked on the door, waiting for a reply.

"Come in," A voice said from the other side. Davy opened the door, gesturing for the lawyer to come in. The lawyer entered, and Davy began to follow.

Micky and Peter smiled at Davy, giving their full support. "We're going to get him good this time," Micky reassured Davy.

Davy nodded, "Have fun at the jam session with the Beatles."

"Never thought you'd say that, now would you?" Micky laughed. "Call us when you're done. We'll see you later."

"Call the pad?" Davy asked. There was continuous debate over whether the Beatles would be going to the pad or if Micky and Peter would be going to their hotel. Norm was extremely nervous about letting the Beatles out of his sight now. The first time they asked after the incident, Norm proclaimed, "And let you four get turned into chickens next time? No thank you. You four are staying right here till the trial!" There had been much persuasion since then, but Davy wasn't sure if they had gotten anywhere with it.

"Yeah, Norm and Shake will be there to make sure nothing happens to us," Peter replied to Davy, smiling. "Nothing bad will happen to us, I'm sure."

"I hope so, our bill is big enough as it is."

"Davy," Micky reassured the Monkee, "Remember, we'll be able to pay off Mike's bill whether we win the trial or not. Don't worry about expenses. Just worry about making sure Mendoza pays for his evil wrong doings."

"Right," Davy nodded, slipping further into the hospital room. He shut the door behind him, meeting the scene of the lawyer awkwardly standing in the corner while Mike strummed his guitar.

"Mike, this is Mr. Hodgson, our lawyer," Davy said, introducing the lawyer. Mike looked up and nodded. "Mr. Hodgson, this is my friend, Mike. He's one of the victims."

Mr. Hodgson walked over to the bed and held out a hand to Mike. Mike stopped playing and shook his hand. Mr. Hodgson pulled up the chair to the bed and sat down. He opened his suitcase and pulled out a tape recorder as well as a clipboard and pen. "Mr. Nesmith, I'm going to need you to sign this confession contract. Mr. Jones, I'll need your signature as witness." Mr. Hodgson handed the clipboard and pen to Mike, who quickly scanned the contract and signed it. He then handed it to Davy, who repeated the action. Davy handed the clipboard back to Mr. Hodgson, who replaced the contract with a blank piece of lined paper. Davy took the guitar from Mike so the Monkee was not distracted by his prized possession.

"Now, I'd like to say that anything recorded will be displayed in court, so choose your words wisely," Mr. Hodgson began, adjusting himself in the chair, ready to write. He clicked on the tape recorder. "Now Mr. Nesmith, can you tell me, in your own words, when this all began?"

"Well," Mike began, leaning back and sighing. "I think it began when my ma met my pa at the diner she worked at. She said it was love-"

"I mean about the accident, Mr. Nesmith, not your life," Mr. Hodgson butted in.

"It wasn't an accident, though," Davy interrupted.

Mr. Hodgson gave Davy a death glare. "Mr. Jones, you're here as witness, not to help Mr. Nesmith with his confession."

"Sorry," Davy said, bowing his head.

"He's right, though," Mike defended. "It wasn't an accident. Mendoza did this to us because he wanted revenge for us ruining his chance at fame and fortune."

"Now how did you ruin his chance at fame and fortune, Mr. Nesmith?" Mr. Hodgson asked, recording his questions and Mike's answers on the lined paper.

"He wanted to take our musical abilities and put them in his android he built. He hired us, telling us we were playing at a party, but then told us we were going to teach a 'young prodigy' when we got there. That night he hooked us up to a machine and took our musical abilities and made us forget. In the morning we made a fool of ourselves and he was about to make us go home. However, we were able to fix that by sneaking into his lab and taking our musical abilities back. We finally got him arrested and went on with our lives." Mr. Hodgson spent a moment writing all this down. Mike subconsciously scratched his nose.

"Alright," Mr. Hodgson said when he was satisfied with what he wrote. "When you say "our," you mean you and…?"

"My band mates. Davy, Micky, and Peter. He attacked all four of us." Mike confirmed.

"Alright, so this was an attack against all four of you?"

"Yes, it was," Mike confirmed.

"When would you say this most recent act of revenge began, Mr. Nesmith?"

"Well, I'd say it began when we met the Beatles at the Vincent Van Go-Go," Mike said, scratching his nose again. "They came up and told us they liked our… our…" Mike made a face as if to sneeze, but the sneeze never came. Instead, his nose began to turn black as he prepared for the sneeze. It was morphing, shifting, changing. Davy and Mr. Hodgson's eyes grew as Mike was unaware of the change. When the change was complete, Mike relaxed, assuming the sneeze would never come.

"Uh, Mr. Nesmith…" Mr. Hodgson said, scratching his head. He was at a lost for words.

"What?" Mike asked.

"Mike…" Davy interrupted, "I think you're going through a relapse."

"Relapse? What do you mean relapse?" Mike asked, oblivious to his monkey nose. Davy tapped his nose, not sure what to say. Mike reached for his nose, feeling the rough texture. His eyes widened at the realization. He quickly covered his nose with both hands.

"What the hell?!" Mike exclaimed.

"I'll go get someone," Mr. Hodgson said, clumsily standing and rushing from the room.

"Get Dr. Capaldi!" Davy yelled at him as he left. "Oh dear… Mike, don't panic."

"Don't panic? Don't panic?! How am I supposed to not panic? I have a monkey's nose!" Mike almost yelled. He scratched his left ear quick before covering his nose again.

"Mike, don't do that!" Davy warned, noticing the pattern.

"Do what?" Mike asked, scratching his right ear before covering his nose again.

Before Davy could answer, Dr. Capaldi and Mr. Hodgson returned. Dr. Capaldi, trying to keep calm, asked Mike to show him what happened. Embarrassed, Mike removed his hands, revealing his black, hairy nose. Davy, Dr. Capaldi, and Mr. Hodgson all noticed Mike's sideburns quickly growing without Mike's knowledge. Dr. Capaldi bit his lip. "Davy, Mr. Hodgson, could you leave us for a moment? I think Mike might be having a relapse."

"That's what I said!" Davy exclaimed. Mr. Hodgson grabbed the short Englishman, dragging him out of the room, purposefully leaving his tape recorder and notes in the room. Mr. Hodgson shut the door behind him to let Dr. Capaldi do his work.

"How can I be going through a relapse?" Mike asked Dr. Capaldi as the doctor took his pulse.

"I'm not sure, Mike. My guess would be that your body is rejecting the antidote because you were an animal for so long," Dr. Capaldi theorized, recording Mike's pulse. He began listening to his lungs. "I need you to try and calm down."

"Calm down? Do you know how to fix this, Doctor?" Mike asked, scratching his left ear again.

"No, but I will figure it out, Mike. I need you to calm down, though." Dr. Capaldi replied, standing back and observing Mike's condition. His ears began changing shape by this point. "I'll need a quick blood sample, Mr. Nesmith."

"Ooh Mr. Nesmith, huh?" Mike asked with sarcasm. "You must be really worried, huh? You've been calling me Mike since I woke up a few days ago."

"That's because you asked me to call you Mike," Dr. Capaldi said, beginning his leave to acquire the appropriate supplies to collect blood. "Now you stay here, and stop scratching yourself. Also, I recommend you do not look in a mirror. You might not like what you see." Dr. Capaldi quickly left the room.

Davy popped in as soon as the door shut. "Oo!" He squeaked, seeing his friend. It reminded Davy of monkey people in the movies. Half human, half monkey. He quickly shut the door again.

"Davy!" Mike yelled angrily.

Davy popped his head back in, smiling nervously. "Hi Mike…" He said, sliding back into the room.

Mike gave him a death glare for the response to his appearance, but then suddenly sobered. "Davy, don't leave me right now. Just, stay here, please."

"Will do, Mike," Davy said, making his way over to the chair that Mr. Hodgson was sitting in earlier. He noticed the tape recorder and clipboard in the chair. "Hey, Mr. Hodgson left his stuff in here."

"Just leave it," Mike said, scratching his head. "I feel so… weird."

"I believe it," Davy said, looking at his changing friend. The changes slowed, his face being the only thing really resembling a monkey.

"How bad is it?" Mike asked, looking his friend dead in the eye.

"Don't ask me that, Mike…" Davy whined.

"It's that bad, huh?" Mike rolled his eyes, flopping into his pillows. "Great, how could this get any worse?"

"Ah, maybe the fact that you're not completely monkey, just half monkey. Like Dr. Brewster from _the Ape Man."_

"You mean the one from the 1940s?" Mike asked. Davy nodded.

Dr. Capaldi returned with a cart of tools to take a blood sample from Mike. To distract Mike, Davy asked him a few questions.

"Should I tell Micky and Peter?" Davy asked, nervous when he took a glance at Mike's hairy arm while Dr. Capaldi searched for a vein. "I mean, they should probably-"

"No," Mike blurted out. "Let's see if the good doctor here can do anything for me, first." Mike said, giving Dr. Capaldi a glare as he was preparing to insert the needle.

"I don't know yet, Mike," Dr. Capaldi said, inserting the needle into his arm. Mike flinched when the needle penetrated his skin.

"I agree with Mr. Nesmith, Mr. Jones," Mr. Hodgson suddenly said, walking into the room unannounced. "I think we can use this to our advantage." Mr. Hodgson walked over to his chair and turned off the tape recorder, collecting the rest of his tools. "Mr. Nesmith is walking proof of the evil Mendoza has caused you boys. If we show up to the trial with him, we would win the trial for sure."

"Sure," Mike agreed, considering the proposition. "But the defendants can easily asked why the Beatles, Micky, and Peter haven't had a relapse yet."

"That's why I'll be calling Dr. Capaldi as a witness," Mr. Hodgson said, as if it were obvious. "What do you think, doctor?"

"Well, as a medical professional, I can only assume it is because Mike's system has become used to being a monkey, so his body has developed a small resistance to the antidote. Of course, I won't know for sure without proof. Hence why I am taking a blood sample. After we confirm _why_ he is having a relapse, I need to make up a stronger antidote so that when Mike drinks or takes the medicine, he will _stay_ human. It is not my concern whether you win the trial, even though I do hope you win. My concern is Mike's health. I would prefer it if you wait to show off Mike until after I know what's wrong with him."

"Of course, of course, Peter," Mr. Hodgson said, waving his hands around. "The health of my client always comes first, but the trial begins tomorrow, and I'd like to get this evidence in before it is too late. I'm betting that if we have Mike walk in and testify, we can have this trial over and done with in ten minutes, a half hour at max."

"Give me time to make a diagnosis, Joel. In the meantime, I'd rather you not be breathing over my shoulder and rushing me, knowing you," Dr. Capaldi complained, obviously reaching the end of his rope.

"You've worked with him before?" Davy asked to whichever of the men would reply.

"He's been the lawyer to many of my patients," Dr. Capaldi replied, bandaging Mike's arm and cleaning up after himself. "He's an excellent lawyer, but is ungodly impatient."

"Don't complain, Peter, I've made your life ten times easier and you know it!" Mr. Hodgson exclaimed.

"Joel, please go." Dr. Capaldi said, preparing to leave. "Actually, come with me. I have some business to discuss with you. There is no need to worry, Davy and Mike." Mr. Hodgson opened the door to let Dr. Capaldi leave. He followed him out, leaving Davy and Mike alone.

"What do you think about that?" Mike asked Davy as soon as the door closed.

"I don't know. They both make good points," Davy replied, looking at the door still. He felt awkward looking at Mike now. "But I think we need to tell Micky and Peter."

"Yeah…" Mike mused. "But how? They're not going to believe you, will they?"

"No idea, but I think it is worth a shot," Davy said, standing. "I think I'll give them a call now."

"No, don't bother them," Mike said quickly, grabbing his arm. "Didn't they say they were going to have a jam session with the Beatles today?"

"Yes, but you're turning into a monkey, again!" Davy defended, feeling the need to tell his friends. "They're your roommates and friend. They deserve to know what's up." Mike didn't reply. Davy could tell Mike was embarrassed about this and wanted to keep it a secret. "Mike, our lawyer just proposed that we show the world your condition. If we're going to do that, we should at least tell Micky and Peter. They'll be hurt if we don't."

Mike frowned, knowing Davy was right. "Fine, go call them, but come right back." Davy could tell Mike was very uncomfortable with being alone in his current condition. Davy nodded and quickly slipped out of the room, finding the nearest pay phone so he could call the pad.


	18. Chapter 18- Preparations

Chapter 18- Preparations

"Don't ask me what I want it for," George sang.

"Aah, Mr. Wilson," Everyone else sang.

"If you don't want to pay some more."

"Aah, Mr. Heath!"

"'Cuz I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman," George sang out. He was on lead guitar, John was on rhythm, Paul and Peter were on bass, and Ringo played drums. Peter never missed an opportunity to learn something new. "Now my advice for those who die… Declare the pennies on your eyes… 'Cuz I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman. And you're working for no one, but me!" Everyone else sang the harmonies accordingly. The last chords of the song rang in the pad. Micky, Norm, and Shake applauded the group. That's when the phone rang.

"I'll get it!" Micky said, popping up and running over to the chess table, pulling the red rotary phone out of the table and picking up the phone. "Monkees' residence, Micky speaking… Davy! Hey, the confession is over already? That was quick, we only got through one song… Hold on, what? Davy, slow down. Start from the beginning."

"That's not good," Peter said as he and the others watched Micky talk to Davy over the phone. If _Micky_ had to tell Davy to slow down, something obviously was wrong.

"He's going through a relapse? How is that possible?" He waited for Davy to explain. "Oh, I think… Do you need us to stop by? No? Why not? Oh, of course he doesn't. That really doesn't surprise me after the past month he's put us through… Yeah, I know, I wouldn't want to be seen either if I were him… We'll see him tomorrow? Really? He's going to the trial?" Micky waited as Davy poured out their whole plan to Micky. "Alright Davy, if you say so. What time do you want us to pick you up? Alright, Davy see you then. Call if you need anything else. Yep, bye," Micky hung up the phone, putting the phone back into the chess table.

"What happened?" Paul asked, taking the bass off his shoulder.

"Mike's going through a relapse. Davy says it might be because he was a monkey longer than we were, so the antidote isn't working as well as it should. He's turning into a monkey again." Peter, George, Ringo, and John cringed at the idea of turning back into an animal.

"You said he's going to the trial?" George asked.

"Yeah, our lawyer says that we will win for sure if we bring him along. He's the most hard-core evidence we've got. He's basically living proof that we were turned into animals." Micky explained, sitting back down next to Norm.

"But how can he confess if he's a monkey?" Shake asked. "How will they believe us that he's Mike?"

"He's not completely monkey, he's half monkey." Micky explained, quoting Davy. "He's turning into a monkey, but still has human characteristics. Like he can still talk and walk like a proper human."

"Oh, if that's the case then you'll win for sure!" Shake confirmed.

"Poor Mike, though," Ringo sighed. "He's goin' through all this trouble for something that wasn't even his fault."

"There's not much we can do, though," George added. "None of this was our fault. I still don't understand why everything happened."

"Oh, uh, I can explain that," Paul said, running his fingers through his hair. "Dr. Mendoza wanted me to carry on a solo career and help his… android son thing rise to fame and fortune. He turned the three of you into bugs so he could use you as bribery. If I didn't do as he said he was going to kill the lot of you one by one. The Monkees, though… I think he just wanted some test monkeys for the future. If I remember, he also said something about taking their musical abilities."

"Well I'm glad he didn't go through with it," Norm said. "Paul, you'd be in so much trouble if he did."

"Frankly, his plan was pretty clever. He had evidence to say that George, Ringo, and John all died at sea. He had files and everything. I couldn't see a flaw in his plan at the time. Also, to avoid getting in trouble with you, Norm, since I was sworn to secrecy, I probably would have said the whole thing was John's idea."

"Hey!" John whined. "You better watch it McCartney, I'm not a bug anymore, so I can take you on easy!"

"That's the point, John," Paul elaborated. "You were supposed to be dead to the public, so I would have said it was your fault to save your life! If it wasn't for the Monkees, you three would still be at Mendoza's castle while I was traveling the world with a singing robot."

"And for that, we're grateful," Norm finished, giving Micky and Peter a smile.

Micky and Peter returned with a sheepish smile. "Thanks guys, but how about another song to get off the topic?" Micky suggested.

"Good idea, Micky," Peter said, jumping to grab his bass.

"Oi, how about teaching us one of your songs?" Paul asked. "What do you think, lads?"

The other three Beatles murmured in agreement. Micky stood and walked up to the ensemble. "Peter, which one do you think we should do?"

"Ah, how about 'She?' I know the lead guitar for that one, so I can teach Paul the bass real quick and we'll be on our way."

"Groovy!"

* * *

"This is a drag, a stone drag!" Mike groaned, covering his face.

"Sorry, mate," Davy said. "At least the changes are slowing down, that means the antidote is doing something."

"Davy's right," Dr. Capaldi said, still not liking the results the antidote was giving them. "We'll have men to continue working on it, don't worry. If needs be, we might have to ask the police for help."

"Ask the police?" Davy asked. "How are they going to help?"

"We might need to interrogate Dr. Mendoza for information concerning the antidote," Dr. Capaldi explained. "Or we'll need the police to dig up more information at the castle. We'll see what we can do." He now addressed Mike, "For now, though, you need to calm down and rest. We'll keep a steady supply of the antidote going through your system so that you don't develop any more changes. We're working on a pill right now for you to take with you tomorrow for the trial, but if we can't you might need to bring the IV with you." This made Mike's eyes widen with panic. "But don't worry, I will be accompanying you to and from the trial, since you are still my patient." This made Mike calm down a little, but not too much. "For now, rest." Dr. Capaldi nodded and left the room, leaving Mike and Davy alone again.

"I hate this!" Mike groaned, scratching his monkey ear.

"I know, Mike, but there isn't much we can do." Davy sighed. "You know, if we never would have accepted Mendoza's original job proposal, we wouldn't be in this mess today."

"Yeah, but we really needed the money, Davy. And we didn't know that Mendoza was going to steal our musical abilities. We walked in blind."

"That's true…" Davy said, trying to think of something else to say.

Mike pinched the bridge of his nose (or what he could hold of his nose) and leaned back in his bed. "I can't wait till this is all over. I miss my own bed." He looked up at the ceiling, then over at where Davy had put his guitar earlier. For a split second he debated on playing, but then decided against it. He closed his eyes and a sudden rush of fatigue hit him. "Why is this so exhausting?" Mike asked, his eyes still closed.

"What do you mean?" Davy asked. He had noticed that Mike was doing a lot of sleeping lately, but he thought it was because he was still healing from the transfer of anatomy.

Mike shrugged. "I'm so tired, I wonder why." Davy pondered the question. He was about to reply, but he noticed Mike had quickly fallen asleep. Quietly, Davy stood and left the room in search of Dr. Capaldi.

He caught the doctor leaving a room down the hall. He called to him and ran up to the doctor. Dr. Capaldi asked what the matter was. Davy caught a small breath and said, "Is there something else wrong with Mike? He just fell asleep on me. He said he was tired out of the blue. He was fine a minute ago, raging on as he always does."

"It could be because his body is shift from one anatomy to another, and it's taking a lot out of him. Realistically, I think he could have gone home after today if it wasn't for the relapse. I'll take a look at him later, to make sure I'm right, but I think it may just be that his body is working overtime. Don't be too concerned, Davy. I promise he'll be alright. I may even consider letting him go home after the trial tomorrow if he is healthy enough to do all basic functions. He may be sleeping a lot, like you observed, but at least he'll be in his own bed. Right now my plan is to make enough of the antidote into pills so Mike can take them regularly to prevent any other developments. However, with Mike being the only one with this case, he'll have to be our test subject to see if it works. So it will be up to Mike on whether or not he stays here or goes home."

Davy nodded, taking in all this information. "When will you tell him?"

"Sometime today when I have finalized my plan. I need to see if I can make the antidote into a pill, first." Dr. Capaldi explained. "If you'll excuse me, I've got a few other patients to check up on."

"Of course," Davy said. He turned and walked back to Mike's room. Pondering all that Dr. Capaldi had said. It would be awhile before they could all be over this mess.


	19. Chapter 19- My Trusty Cohorts

Chapter 19- My Trusty Cohorts

 _ **The Day of the Trial**_

* * *

The courtroom was filling fast. Micky and Peter followed the Beatles, Norm, and Shake into the courtroom, walking up to the front where they could see Mr. Hodgson talking with a stranger. They had dropped Davy off at the hospital earlier that morning with some clothes for Mike, and were told that Mike and Davy would meet them there at the courthouse. Norm tapped Mr. Hodgson on the shoulder to get his attention. He spun around, smiling when he saw seventy-five percent of his clients.

"Good morning!" Mr. Hodgson beamed. "What a fine day for a trial, don't you agree?" Everyone glared at him, clearly not wanting to be there and not finding his humor funny. "Well then… I'd like you lot to take up this first row here." They all began shuffling into the pew. Once they all sat down, Mr. Hodgson continued. "Great, and there's still room for the good ol' doctor, Davy, and Mike. Nice. Alright, now after the opening statements I'm going to begin calling witnesses. We've got all of the physical evidence out on display, including the files on the Beatles disappearance, a sample of the antidote and what we could find of the original elixir, the guns and bullets, and I also have Mike's original confession from yesterday. All I need the eight of you to do is sit quietly and wait to be called up. I may call you up, the defendant's attorney may call you up. Just be ready."

* * *

"I'm not ready for this!" Mike whispered. He, Dr. Capaldi, and Davy were standing outside of the courtroom. Mike was wearing some of his normal day clothes, his hairy hands shoved in his pockets and his wool hat pulled down far enough to cover his ears. "I can't go in there!"

"Mike," Davy sighed. "Come on, we've got to do this."

" _You've_ got to do this, I don't! Can't I just say that the relapse has made me more ill than they thought and I couldn't show up today?" Mike asked, trying hard not to cover his nose with his hands.

"Michael, you're going to be okay. I'll be right there if anything does happen, and I have your medicine right here in my bag, just in case you need it. I also have a water bottle for you. You're going to be okay." Dr. Capaldi said, hoping to reassure the man.

However, no matter how much they tried to reassure him, they both knew why Mike was nervous. Who would want to expose themselves as some half-monkey creature to the public? Micky and Peter haven't even seen Mike yet, and Davy knew that they could quite possibly panic when they saw him. Mike was also right. He didn't _have_ to do this, but he agreed to it the night before. They had to do this. Mike knew he had to do this, even though he didn't _have_ to. Davy placed a hand on Mike's shoulder. "You're going to be fine. Hey Doc, do you think that once Mike's done confessing, you two could get out of here to spare Mike any more emb-" Mike shot him a glare. Even though it was obvious that Mike was embarrassed about his condition, he didn't want it said out loud.

"During a recess, we can. I don't want to make a bigger scene than we need to, either. We'll leave while everyone is in a shuffle to go to the bathroom or to get food," Dr. Capaldi said. "Though I think we should be getting in there, I think the trial is going to begin in a few minutes, and Mr. Hodgson will not want us to leave him waiting."

Mike took a deep breath. He pulled his hands out to pull his hat down further, then pushed them back into his pockets. Davy noticed he was shaking ever so slightly. Davy put a hand on Mike's back as Dr. Capaldi open the door. Davy was surprised to find how cushioned Mike's back felt, but quickly realized it was the hair that had grown on his back overnight.

The room did not completely silence when they entered, but the volume certainly diminished. Mike kept his eyes to the floor as Davy and Dr. Capaldi escorted him to the first row where they saw the others sitting. Davy looked over at Micky and Peter's faces. They first smiled and waved at Davy, then they saw Mike. Their faces fell with shock. Davy gave a quick glance to the Beatles, who were all watching Mike. Was this such a good idea after all?

"Davy!" Micky yelled when they approached the pew. "Mike!"

Mike looked up and gave the energetic drummer a shy smile, quickly scratching his nose to hide it. The Beatles were clearly speechless. "Hey Micky," Mike said in a quiet tone. His voice, luckily, was still the same.

"So that's what Davy meant by 'relapse,' Micky breathed, still in awe at his friend's condition.

"Mike, how are you feeling?" Peter asked.

Mike shrugged. "Just a little out of place, that's all."

"Why's your hat pulled down so far?" Micky asked.

Davy moved to tell Micky not to ask, but Mike shook his head, knowing what the short man was going to say. "My ears," Mike said instead. "They're… well… not exactly human enough for the public."

Micky openly shivered. The Beatles had finally gotten a good look at the Monkee, finally ready to speak. Paul was the first to go. "I'm sorry, Mike. You look-"

"Paul!" John interrupted. "Now is not the time to be talking about looks!"

George elbowed John. "Knock it off, John."

John gave George a glare. Norm shook his head at John's antics. "Why don't you guys take a seat?" Norm offered, gesturing towards the empty space next to Micky. Davy, Mike, and Dr. Capaldi sat. Mr. Hodgson ran over, seeing that the three of them were here.

"You're just in time!" He said as there was suddenly silence in the courtroom. They were all told to rise as Judge Charles Wargrave was announced to the audience. Everyone stood as Judge Wargrave entered the room, and everyone sat when told to. Mike could feel a knot in his stomach, trying to anticipate what would happen. He hardly listened to the opening statements, his mind focused on his shoes. He could feel Davy bouncing one of his legs beside him. Suddenly, he heard Mr. Hodgson declare, "I call Mr. David Jones to the stand." Mike's head sprang up as Davy stood.

Davy shuffled out of the pew and walked up to the witness stand, winking at a girl in the jury on his way up. He got into the witness stand and took the witness oath. Mr. Hodgson then got to work on questioning Davy.

"Alright, Mr. Jones, please describe your relationship with the defendant." Mr. Hodgson said professionally.

"Dr. Mendoza? I first met him when he hired my band, the Monkees, to play at a party at his castle. When we got to the castle there was no party, so he said he wanted us to teach his kid, who happened to be a giant android. Later that night he kidnapped us from the rooms we were staying in and hooked us up to this machine, stealing our musical abilities and putting them inside the android."

"Did the four of you get your abilities back?" Mr. Hodgson asked.

"Yeah, all thanks to Micky. He was able to tamper with the machine and give us our musical abilities back. Then Mendoza tried to get the android to kill us, but we used reverse psychology on it and caught Mendoza. After that we called the police and had Mendoza arrested."

"What ever happened to the android, Mr. Jones?"

Davy shrugged. "I think it was deactivated and locked up somewhere in the castle."

Mr. Hodgson nodded, stroking the little facial hair he had. "Now, Mr. Jones, tell us about the second time you met Dr. Mendoza."

"Well, it was about a month ago, now, and he kidnapped my friends over there." Davy pointed to the first row where the Beatles and the Monkees were sitting. "He kidnapped John Lennon, George Harrison, Ringo Starr, Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, and Mike Nesmith. I didn't know about it till Paul McCartney came knocking on my door with the ransom note."

Mr. Hodgson nodded, walking over and grabbing the ransom note from the evidence table. He walked over to the jury. "Members of the jury, this is the note that Mr. McCartney brought to Mr. Jones's house on that fateful day. It reads, 'Dear Mr. Beatle, I have your bandmates, as well as three of the Monkees. If you ever wish to see them again, please come to 161 Rosebud Lane at 11:30pm. Please come with the short Monkee, who goes by the name of Davy. He lives at 1334 Beachwood Drive. Do not call the police. If you do, you will never see the remaining Beatles or Monkees alive ever again. Sincerely, a friend.'" Mr. Hodgson then showed the note to the jury, close enough for them to read it. He then replaced the note on the table and walked over to the witness stand. "Mr. Jones, how could you tell that Mendoza was the one who kidnapped your friends?"

"Because of the address. As I said before, my band mates and I had to go to that address once because we were told that we were going to perform at a party, but then Mendoza stole our musical abilities."

"What did you and Mr. McCartney do in response to the ransom note?" Mr. Hodgson asked, glancing at the other attorney every once in awhile.

"We decided to sneak into the castle and save our friends," Davy said. "I had seen on the news a few days prior that Dr. Mendoza had been released on parole and was being watched over by the government. We assumed that he asked us to be at the castle at 11:30 at night because that was when the government officials had gone home. I suspected we were walking into a trap, but what else could we do? We couldn't leave them with Mendoza, and we couldn't willingly walk into Mendoza's trap. So we grabbed some gear and decided to sneak into the castle, grab our friends, and leave without Mendoza noticing."

"Mr. Jones, please walk us through what you encountered that night."

"Well, I think we got to the castle around 10pm. We parked down at the end of the road and decided to walk up to avoid getting noticed. We used our Bat-Hook to climb into the castle. Paul and I then started looking around for the others, and didn't find them till we got to his laboratory, the same lab he stole our musical abilities in. It took us a few minutes to actually realize that the bugs and monkeys in the room were our friends, though. Ironically I had Mike's hat and I fought him with it for a few minutes till Paul realized that he was Mike. Then we got caught by Mendoza and he took us to his dining room to tell us his evil plan. Mendoza was about to shoot me when Mike, Micky, and Peter came falling from the sky. There was a big fight and Paul and Mendoza shot at each other. Mendoza would have killed Paul if Mike hadn't pushed him out of the way."

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," Mr. Hodgson said. He nodded to the defendant's attorney. "Your turn, Blake."

The second attorney stood. From what Davy could recall from the opening statements, his name was Mr. Blake Knight. Mr. Knight stood from behind the table and walked up to the witness stand. "Mr. Jones," he began. "You say that a fight broke out between the… eight of you and my client?"

"Your _client_ was about to shoot me when Micky, Peter, and Mike came and disturbed the peace. I cannot tell you where John, Ringo, and George were." Davy said honestly. "But yes, for the sake of argument, a fight did break out between us. During the fight Paul sent me out to call the police. When I came back Paul and Mike were both injured."

"So you did not see them injured?" Mr. Knight asked.

"No, but it was obvious that Mike had taken a bullet for Paul. Mike was lying next to Paul when we got there."

"That's not my point, Mr. Jones. Did you or did you not see Mr. Nesmith shot by Dr. Mendoza?"

Davy sighed. "No, no I did not." Davy glanced over at Micky and Peter, who looked angry.

"Thank you. Now, you say Mr. McCartney sent you out of the room to contact the police, is that right?" Mr. Knight continued.

"Yes sir," Davy said.

"What did you do when you left the room?"

"I ran to the nearest room to find a telephone. Luckily there was one in there. I called the police and waited for them outside."

"Why did you wait for the police? Why didn't you go back and help your friends?" Mr. Knight proposed.

"I waited outside because that castle is a maze in itself and the last time we had to call the police there, one of us had to wait for the police. I think the first time it was Micky, but it still took him a solid fifteen minutes to get the police to Mendoza. We heard the sirens, waited ten minutes, noticed they weren't there, so Micky went looking for them and brought them back. I knew we needed the police as quickly as possible, so I waited outside so I knew the police would get there as quickly as possible."

Mr. Knight cocked an eyebrow, pretending to not believe the Englishman. "Right, so you were unaware of everything that happened in that room after you left till you returned?"

"I wasn't unaware, I knew what was happening!" Davy almost yelled. "My friends were being attacked by that madman! I felt bad for leaving them, honest, but I knew the police would be more of a help than I would."

Mr. Knight nodded. "I'm finished here." He walked back to the table where Mendoza sat.

Mr. Hodgson stood and called Paul to be the next witness. All of the Beatles and all of the Monkees knew this was going to be a long and infuriating day.


	20. Chapter 20- Mike's Confession

Chapter 20- Mike's Confession

"I call Mr. Michael Nesmith to the stand!" Mr. Hodgson declared. Everyone noticed Mike's face, or what they could see of his skin, turn bright red. He pulled on his green wool hat farther down and stood. He walked up to the witness stand, his face studying the floor. Nervously he looked up when he was situated. He took the oath and Mr. Hodgson cleared his throat, ready for dissection.

"Mr. Nesmith, in your own words, please describe the events that took place the night of November 23rd."

"Well," Mike began scratching his hairy neck. "I don't remember much. I remember my bandmates and I going out and playing our gig at the Vincent Van Go-Go. We got home, went to bed, and next thing I know, I'm tied up to a chair in Mendoza's laboratory with John, Ringo, and George sitting across from Micky, Peter, and I. Mendoza didn't tell us much. The first thing I really recall is him dumping something down John's throat. Then there was this bright light and John was gone. In his place was a beetle. Like a proper bug, not like the Beatle he already is."

"Did he do the same to the rest of you?" Mr. Hodgson asked.

"I think so. If I remember right, John and I were the first ones tested on. Then I blacked out. When I woke up the next time, I was a monkey. Not like how I look like now, but a proper monkey. With a tail and everything. Eventually Paul and Davy found us and we had to convince them we were who we are. Lucky for us, Davy brought my wool hat with him so I played charades with him till Paul figured it out. Then Mendoza found us and took Davy and Paul up to the dining room. Before they left, Davy had managed to pick the lock and we escaped, found the room Mendoza took them to, and intervened before Mendoza could shoot Davy."

"Why was Mendoza going to shoot Davy?" Mr. Hodgson asked.

Mike shrugged. "I think it had something to do taking our musical abilities again and he didn't want Davy to put up a fight."

"Alright," Mr. Hodgson looked down at file in his hands. Mike knew what he was going to say next. "Your medical records here show you were shot that night as well, is that true?"

"Yes."

"By whom?"

"Dr. Mendoza. He and Paul were having a shoot-out and I tackled Paul before he could get shot. I got hit with the bullet."

"Thank you, Mr. Nesmith. Please now, please tell the jury what happened after that, and your medical condition for the past month."

Mike turned to the jury, trying not to look at any of them in the eye. "Well, when I was shot, they took me to a veterinary hospital because at the time, I was still an animal. Both the doctors and veterinarians agreed that they didn't want to give me the antidote until I had completely healed from the bullet. Honestly, I had just been changed back this week, I think. The days have been meshing together. The doctors feared that if they changed me back with the wound, it would make the wound worse because of the size difference between humans and monkeys. Well, what they predicted happened, and some of my wounds reopened. External ones, I think. Anyway, I wasn't originally going to come in here. Mr. Hodgson here was going to record my confession so I could stay at the hospital and rest. During the confession, I… Well, this happened." Mike took off the wool hat and bowed his head in shame. There was the sudden gasp from the room and silent murmurs among the jury. His monkey-like ears flopped out, relieved of the tight space from underneath the hat. Judge Wargrave banged his gavel and the courtroom was silenced.

After that, Mr. Hodgson played the confession for the jury, and then proceeded to let Mr. Knight take over. Mike tried to hide a smile, as he could see Mr. Knight sweat. He was going to struggle with this one.

"Mr. Nesmith," Mr. Knight began, straightening his tie. "You claim you don't remember much from the night of November 23rd, is that correct?"

"Yes, but that's because I had been knocked out for a good portion of it," Mike explained.

"How did you know it was Dr. Mendoza doing all of these cruel tests on you and your friends?" Mr. Knight asked.

"Dr. Mendoza knew who Micky, Peter, and I were. He addressed us as if we were old friends. I mean, the reason he knew the Beatles was obvious. They're the Beatles! But us Monkees, no pun intended, aren't famous at all, so the fact that he knew us meant something."

Mr. Knight nodded. The evidence was irrefutable. Mike's smile slipped a little as he could tell that the attorney was stumped. He looked over at his friends, who all had great smiles on his face. After a moment, Mr. Knight asked. "Mr. Nesmith, please tell us the about the first time you met Dr. Mendoza."

"Davy already did that!" Mike exclaimed. "So did Micky and Peter when they were up here! You're beating a dead horse!"

"Tell us the story, Mr. Nesmith," Mr. Knight demanded. Mike sighed and retold the story. When he was done, he looked at Mr. Hodgson with begging eyes. He wanted this to end. That's when he felt an itch on his lower back. His eyes widened.

"Ah, excuse me-" Mike began, but he was interrupted by Mr. Knight.

"Let me do my job, Mr. Nesmith. Speak when you are spoken to."

"But I need my medication from-" He was cut off again.

"Mr. Nesmith, do you know how you got to Dr. Mendoza's place of residence?"

"I need my medication!" Mike blurted out.

"Answer the question!" Mr. Knight yelled back.

Dr. Capaldi stood and grabbed the medication, but as he made his way up, he tripped. Mike noticed the smug look on Mendoza's face when Dr. Capaldi fell, losing the pills on the floor. Nervous and sweating, Mike frantically looked from Dr. Capaldi, to Mr. Knight, to Mr. Hodgson. Why wasn't Mr. Hodgson doing anything?

"I don't know how I got there, I assume I was kidnapped," Mike said, pinching himself to avoid itching. "Dr. Capaldi, please hurry."

"Sit back down, man!" Mr. Knight yelled at Dr. Capaldi who was struggling to find the pills.

"Objection!" Mr. Hodgson finally yelled. "That man needs his pills! He might sprout a tail if he doesn't take them!"

How ironic. Mike sighed and rolled his eyes. Little did Mr. Hodgson knew, that's exactly what was happening. Mike bit his lip. He looked over at the Beatles and Monkees, who were whispering among each other with worry.

"I can't find them!" Dr. Capaldi screamed. "Those were the only pills we had made so far, we've been working all night to make them! I need help!"

"Sit down, man!" Mr. Knight yelled again. Mike looked pained on that stand. "I am not done interrogating this monkey!" Now that stung. It not only hurt Mike, but it hurt Davy, Micky, and Peter as well. The Beatles and the three Monkees stood to help Dr. Capaldi, and soon the courtroom was crowded with people searching for the pills. When Mr. Hodgson passed the witness stand, Mike pulled him close.

"Get me out of here!" Mike begged.

Mr. Hodgson nodded and moved over to Judge Wargrave. "Your honor, the witness needs medical attention. May he be dismissed?" Judge Wargrave nodded. Mike happily hopped down and ran. He ran as fast as he could out of that room. When Dr. Capaldi noticed, he chased right after him. Judge Wargrave banged his gavel and the room came to order.

"Sit down, all of you!" He boomed. You could tell that Judge Wargrave was tired of this case. "Mr. Hodgson, do you have any more witnesses you'd like to call?"

"I wasn't done with the last one!" Mr. Knight exclaimed.

"Shut up, Knight!" Judge Wargrave boomed.

"I did," Mr. Hodgson began, "But he just ran off with the last witness. He was my last one."

"Alright," Judge Wargrave leaned back. "Knight, do you have any?"

"No, sir," Mr. Knight said. He had previously agreed with Mendoza that he would not call him up to the witness stand. They both knew they were going to lose the case.

"Alright," Judge Wargrave said. "Jury, you may proceed with whatever the hell it is you do back there."

The jury quickly filed out and Judge Wargrave called a recess till the jury had made their decision. The Beatles and the Monkees quickly jumped up and left in search of Mike. The first place they checked was the bathroom. They all filed in, taking up most of the space in the bathroom, making it unavailable to any other man who needed to use it. When they ran in, they found Dr. Capaldi leaning against the farthest stall door.

"Dr. Capaldi!" Micky exclaimed.

"Is Mike in here?" Davy asked.

"Right here, shotgun." Mike said from inside the stall.

"Are you okay?" Paul asked.

Dr. Capaldi sighed. "The judge called a recess, didn't he?"

"Yeah, why?" Micky asked.

"Mike, I told you we should have left before they called a recess. The hall is flocked with people, now." Dr. Capaldi said to Mike.

"If it makes you feel any better, we've got this bathroom filled up, so no one will come in here," Ringo tried to reassure them.

"Thanks," Mike said from the stall.

"Are you going to come out anytime soon?" Davy asked.

"Nope," Mike said simply.

John shuffled to the front of the group. "What happened, anyway?"

"Mike's tail grew in," Dr. Capaldi explained. "If I hadn't tripped, I would have gotten to him in time and we wouldn't be standin' here."

"Mendoza tripped you," Mike said from the stall. "I saw it. He had that smug look on his face. I wanted to beat him right then and there."

"Mike, that doesn't matter right now. Right now we need to get you back to the hospital so we can get a steady stream of the antidote going through your system." Dr. Capaldi said, turning towards the stall door.

"Not happening," Mike said from the stall.

"Come on Mike, you need medical attention," Peter tried to convince him.

"I've got a doctor right here in this bathroom with me," Mike stated.

That's when John had an idea. "Hey, we can help you get out."

"We can?" Paul asked.

"Yeah. There is eight of us, including the doctor, here." John continued.

"What are you getting on about, John?" George asked.

"Follow my lead."

Micky, Peter, and Ringo left the bathroom first. Then, with his head down low, Michael left with Paul and John quickly making walls next to him. Then Davy, George, and Dr. Capaldi made up the back of their wall. They merged into the crowd rather easily, slipping away without drawing too much attention to themselves. When they were out, they all ran as fast as they could towards Dr. Capaldi's car. Paul and John practically threw Mike into the back seat while Dr. Capaldi got into the driver's seat. Dr. Capaldi waved goodbye to the lot of them before driving off with the Monkee. The seven musicians quickly made it back inside to claim their victory over Mendoza. Hopefully, this time would be the only time.


	21. Chapter 21- Recovery and Sympathy

Chapter 21- Recovery and Sympathy

The Beatles ran through the hospital doors with such haste, they all got stuck for a moment. They all wiggled their way free before running up to Micky, Peter, and Davy, who were all nervously pacing in the lobby. Norm and Shake hurried in behind them, their heads level.

"Is Mike okay?" Paul asked to the group.

"Dr. Capaldi's not sure," Peter said honestly. "Something's happening, but we're not sure what. He didn't sound too confident about it, though."

"That's never good," George commented. "What did he say?"

"I don't know!" Davy exclaimed. "It was a bunch of fancy medical terms I didn't understand…"

"Hey now," Micky said in a calm tone. "We need to keeps our heads about us. We shouldn't be freaking out over this. Dr. Capaldi will handle this like a professional and help Mike in every-" Dr. Capaldi walked into the room, triggering a frantic rage from the Monkees' drummer. "HE'S GONE! Oh please, Doctor! Don't tell me it's true! He's gone forever, isn't he?! Oh Michael, you've died far too young. Oh my dear Michael! You're gone, he's gone!" Micky fell to his knees, grabbing onto Dr. Capaldi's white jacket.

Concerned and confused, Dr. Capaldi pried the energetic drama queen off of his jacket. "No Micky, Mike is not dead. He's actually quite better. Once the trial had concluded, the police interrogated Mendoza and got a long-term antidote from him. Apparently you're not the first people he's tested this on. Apparently he tested on at least twenty other people so he could use it on the eight of you. We've given Mike the long-term antidote and he's going to make a full recovery in a few days." He turned to the Beatles now. "You see, what happened was that the pills we made had never actually been tested before, so Mike actually had an allergic reaction to the pill. It served its purpose to keep Mike from changing into a monkey any further, but it was causing him to break out with swelling and rashes. The boys here really didn't need to call you, they were overreacting."

"Hey!" Davy yelped, offended. "We did NOT overreact. That's how we normally react. Isn't that right, fellas?"

"Yeah!" Peter and Micky agreed, showing their proud faces.

"Anyway," Dr. Capaldi said, rolling his eyes. "Mike is going to be just fine. We've got the swelling to go down and ointment for his rashes. We've shaved him so we could get the rashes covered, but he's still not looking one-hundred percent normal. I'd actually advise that none of you bother him till it is time for him to go home." He gave the three Monkees a stern glare. "Understood?"

"What about the other people who Mendoza tested this stuff on?" Ringo asked.

"Yeah, what about them?" John asked. "Mendoza told us _we_ were his first test subjects for this thing."

"The police are investigating their cases further. Five of the twenty subjects have already been brought in, and we've been treating them accordingly, using the long-term antidote Mendoza gave us," Dr. Capaldi explained. "These kidnappings will be added to Mendoza's record, extending his sentence for sure."

"How?" Davy asked. "He got sentenced for life at the end of the trial today."

"Maybe they'll give him the chair," Micky suggested.

"Micky!" Peter pouted. Micky gave an awkward apology. "Don't say things like that. It's not nice to wish that kind of death upon someone."

"Not unless this person kidnapped the two best musicians of their time, as well as Ringo-"

"Hey!" Ringo said, punching John in the shoulder.

"I'm kidding!" John defended himself, rubbing his arm. "Ow…"

"Anyway…" Dr. Capaldi said, rolling his eyes. "There is no need for any of you to be here. Mike will be fine in a few days," He looked over at Norm and Shake. "I am sorry for this uncalled for emergency."

Norm rolled his eyes. "It's fine."

"Hey!" Paul almost shouted. "I have an idea!"

John scoffed. "This should be good."

Paul passed John a glare before continuing. "Those poor people, they deserve something. We didn't want any of this to happen, especially since the only reason they were turned into animals was because of us. Norm, we should do something for them, like a concert or something." Norm was not on board. The look on his face clearly said so. Norm shook his head in disagreement. However, Shake really liked the idea. Shake looked down at Norm, a hopeful look in his eyes.

"Come on, Norm," Shake said, hoping to convince the manager. "It's real sweet, and those people deserve it, too. Being imprisoned for so long as _animals,_ not being able to contact their families or children. It would be such a sweet gift for them." He turned, addressing the entire group now. "And you can invite the families as well. A free concert! The kids will get a kick out of it! We can even have the Monkees perform, too. What do you say, guys?"

The three Monkees voiced their opinion. They were certainly up for it, whether they had Mike's consent or not. John, George, and Ringo also voiced their consent. It was up to Norm. Norm shook his head in doubt. "I don't know, guys. It's risky. We would have to keep it a secret so we wouldn't have thousands of girls waiting outside the hospital, and keeping you four a secret is not an easy task."

"It won't be too hard," John proposed. "Sure, they media is watching our every move, but what if we fake our departure, then stay with the Monkees for a few days-"

"John, we can't just intrude on them like that," Norm said.

"We wouldn't mind," Davy said quickly. "You all are from England, us Brits have to stick together. We would be happy to house you till after the concert."

"Right!" Micky said. "We can send out invitations to the families of the test subjects, and have them say it is a private concert to pay respects to their loved ones, and give you guys a fake name on the invite so no one will suspect a thing."

"We'll have to make sure the invitation says it is for family only, too," Peter added.

"Yeah!" Shake said, excited. "We don't have to have it at the hospital, either. We can rent a place to have it."

Norm placed a hand over his face. "Do you guys realize how expensive this going to be?"

"Come on Norm, have some faith in us," John said, throwing an arm around his manager. "It is for a good cause, remember."

Norm gave a long sigh. "I know. This is going to put us months behind. Months!"

"We're already months behind," Ringo said. "We can't stop now."

"Yeah! Ringo's right!" John said happily. "So come on, Norm, let us do this! Think of the kids!"

Norm rolled his eyes. "Fine. We'll do it. But you four will be paying for this, remember."

"Don't worry, Norm, we will!" Paul said. "What do you think, Monkees?"

"We're in!" Davy smiled happily.

* * *

Davy, Peter, and Micky sat on the couch at their beachside home, watching television. Mike was still in the hospital, it had only been two days since they came up with the plan to throw a concert for the families of the other patients. The police and Dr. Capaldi were also helping by providing the boys with names and addresses of families. Now fourteen of the test subjects had been found and were in the hospital for treatment. Many of them had already returned home to their families. Dr. Capaldi had called the boys earlier that day, telling them to pick up Michael tomorrow morning. Not only was he ready for Mike to go home, but Mike was more than ready to leave as well. So the three Monkees enjoyed their practice-free day the best they could before Mike would ruin it the next day. Melissa Redding and Rick Kindling of 9 and 8 News were currently taking over the Monkees' television, giving the morning news, as usual.

"Today the Beatles will be departing Malibu and heading back to England," Melissa Redding announced.

"What a shame," Rick Kindling said in response, looking at Melissa. "It sure has been an exciting few months though, that's for sure." He then turned to the camera. "The Beatles arrived in Malibu a month ago with the intention of taking a very much needed vacation from, well, being the Beatles." Rick Kindling chucked a little at his tiny joke. "However, right at the beginning, John Lennon, George Harrison, and Ringo Starr were kidnapped by scientist and activist Dr. Alfred Mendoza, who had been put on parole only days earlier. With them were three local musicians, Robert Nesmith, George Dolenz, and Peter Thorkelson."

Peter and Micky's eyes widened. "HEY!" They both yelled angrily, upset that their real names had been used on television. "They have no right!"

"Guys, settle down, it's not your fault that's what printed on your legal documents," Davy said, trying to calm them down.

"We never gave our consent to let them use those names! It's against my first amendment right!" Micky fumed.

"No," Davy said with a stern, father voice. "It's _their_ first amendment right to use those names. The first amendment is that we have the right to free speech, Micky. I'm from England and even I know that. Now calm down, they're still talking." Micky and Peter stopped talking, but both pouting as Melissa and Rick continued with the news.

"The trial against Mendoza was concluded on Tuesday, with Mendoza getting a life sentence in prison." Melissa said to the camera, "Since then, fourteen more people have been found as animal subjects in Mendoza's place of residence and six are yet to be found out of the twenty names Mendoza gave to the police."

"Now that the trial is over, the Beatles are heading home. Rumor has it they will begin working on their next album once they get home," Rick said to the camera. "This vacation has lasted longer than any of them had expected, and their manager says that they plan on getting to work right away once they're back home."

"Sure guy," Micky scoffed. "They'll definitely be getting back to work. Speaking of, what time are we supposed to pick them up from the airport?"

Davy shrugged. "Eleven tonight, maybe? They said they were going to change on the plane so they wouldn't be recognized getting off. Then they are supposed to be boarding again and flying back here. Norm said he'd call us when they were back in Malibu."

"Ah," Micky said, turning his attention back to the television and changing the channel to _Gilligan's Island._ It was going to be a long night, but it was going to be worth it. From this point on, all three of them knew that things were going to look up for them.


	22. Chapter 22- All Things Must Pass

Chapter 22- All Things Must Pass

 _ **April 19, 1971**_

The bar was crowded with its usual customers. There were the husbands who were drinking their marriage troubles away and women who were looking for a good time. Occasionally you could tell that some of them were lawyers or businessmen. Other times you could tell that some of them were teenagers trying to snag their first drink or their first hook up. It was just another typical night in another typical alleyway bar built out of an old, abandoned speakeasy.

A young, talented woman sang on stage in a sequin dress, accompanied by a piano. Her song was deep, somewhat sorrowful. It fit the particular mood Micky Dolenz was in that night. He sat at a table all alone, an alcoholic drink caught in his fingers. No one really recognized him here. The fame had come and gone. As of yesterday there was no actual return to the glory days Micky once knew in this old, rotting bar.

"May I join you, sir?" A thick, Liverpool accent asked from above. Silently Micky looked up, seeing a man he couldn't quite recognize. The fedora and sunglasses disguised the man well. Despite appearances, he shrugged and pointed to the seat next to him. The Liverpool man nodded and sat down.

"From Liverpool, are you?" Micky asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"You do know your English accents," The man smirked. A waitress came over and took his order.

"Yeah, I've got a friend who was from Manchester," Micky smiled, recalling his memories of the young British lad. "He would educate me time and time again about your accents, so it's hard not to tell the difference anymore."

"Sound's like a smart kid," The man said. "What brings you here tonight?"

Micky shrugged. "What's it to you?"

"I'll tell you why I'm buggin' you if you tell me why you're here," The man proposed.

Sighing, Micky sat up straight and looked at the man. Now getting a good look at him, there was something familiar about this man, but Micky couldn't quite put his finger on it. He quickly looked back to his drink. "I'm here to celebrate the good old days and to mourn the loss of a band once known."

"And which band is that?" The man asked.

"That's not how this works," Micky interrupted. "Tell me why you're here _then_ I'll answer your questions."

The man laughed. He took off his hat and sunglasses to reveal the familiar sad eyes and large nose of Ringo Starr. "Now mate, tell me what's up. I've already gone through this once, so it won't hurt to help a fellow drummer through it."

Micky gave a somber laugh. "Ah man, this is just rough. I mean, we were able to manage for a while… I guess Davy was right, though. What was the point if it was just the two of us instead of the four of us?"

"You had a good run, the four of you. I listened to your records and always looked forward to hearing your stuff on the radio," Ringo smiled, trying to lighten the ex-Monkee's mood. "However, time goes on and changes happen. The good old days are over now and it's time to be an adult."

"I am an adult!" Micky exclaimed. "I'm twenty-six years old. I'll just get older from here." The drummer buried his head in his arms.

The waitress came and delivered Ringo's drink. "Aye, mate. That's how it rolls." He took a sip of his drink. Instead of setting it back down again, he held it level with his face. "Remember the day we held a concert for those poor victims who that crazy scientist experimented on?"

Micky raised his head. "You mean Dr. Mendoza?"

"Yeah, that's him," Ringo said. "Remember that?"

Micky chuckled. "Mike was pissed that we didn't let him play."

"George was pissed that we dressed him up like Mike," Ringo added, laughing and lowering his glass a little. "Man, that was one of my best performances, I think."

"They loved you guys."

"They loved you, too, mate."

Both of the young men smiled, holding the memory near and dear. They could see the stage, a rickety old platform set up in the middle of an old senior center. Nurses and patients filled the audience, Mike sitting among them. Naturally, the Monkees had played first with George on guitar. Then after a bunch of songs, they switched out. George revealed that he was _the_ George Harrison, and that the Beatles were there to perform. After the show the Beatles signed autographs, posed for pictures, and insisted the whole night that the Monkees should join in on the picture, claiming that the band would be famous one day. They were one-hundred percent right.

Ringo raised his glass. "To the Monkees."

"To the Monkees," Micky repeated, clinking glasses with the ex-Beatle. "To the Beatles."

"To the Beatles," they repeated the gesture. Drinking to their past, the two drummers continued to share and reminisce about the days of old, when the Beatles and the Monkees lived and breathed through the hearts of millions, their voices the answers to everyone's problems but their own.

The night went on with melodies and memories spinning throughout the bar, both men getting drunk and eventually leaving together in a cab. When Micky Dolenz woke up the next morning, you could only imagine his surprise when he found the ex-drummer for the Beatles lying on his sofa. However, he could not have been more grateful.

 _ **The End**_

* * *

 _ **Author's Note: Thank you for reading this story! I'm sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up, I had writer's block and college in the way of everything. However, amongst my Christmas Break, I found the time and the inspiration to finish up this story! Thank you to everyone who read this story. Please don't forget to check out my other stories, as well as the ones I have done with Lisa Boon (either as TimeSpace64/Lisa Boon or as Jean Blessing.) Happy Holidays everyone! Peace and Love!**_


End file.
